


A Catastrophe

by salsareads



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bookstore crew decides getting a cat to live in the store and attract customers is a good idea, Enemies to Lovers, Jon works at a bookstore that's been dropping in popularity, M/M, Martin works at a cat shelter, i'll update the tags as i go along, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:01:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25051345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salsareads/pseuds/salsareads
Summary: Magnus Books is being overlooked in favor of Leitner's books just down the street, and the crew decides that a cute cat living in the store is the perfect thing to attract new customers!Problem; the guy in charge of the shelter where they want to adopt a cat has decided he hates Jon.Jon can't fathom why.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 171
Kudos: 328





	1. In memoriam of spilled coffee

**Author's Note:**

> I don't actually know how shelters work, so for those of you that do, please excuse this.  
> HUGE shout out to guilt_is_for_mortals/Chao for not only encouraging me to write this, but also for being my beta! I love you and I don't deserve you.

Jon is late. Which is to say, he isn’t actually  _ late,  _ especially not if you asked more reasonable people, who leave home at reasonable hours to get to work.

But Jon isn’t “reasonable people”, and he is usually incredibly early to open up the shop. But today, he is by his standards, late.

This means he is hurrying, politely elbowing his way through public transport, quietly grumbling to himself while power-walking down the street, and barely registering what the poor underpaid barista is trying to ask him.

He might be late, but that doesn’t mean he won’t get his usual morning coffee (black, extra espresso in it, five sugars, honestly just an affront to God).

So he gets his caffeine monstrosity, and just about leaps out of the café to get back on route to work, when he dramatically slams into the unsuspecting person standing right outside.

The stranger, taller than him and obviously not in a hurry, like himself, lets out a startled gasp. Jon curses and shakes his now drenched hand, the coffee cup dropped to the ground and rolling away sadly. 

“Shit! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you, a-are you okay?” the stranger fusses over him, his shirt stained by the sad remains of the coffee. Jon huffs.

“Maybe you should look more carefully at where you’re going”, he says, not even bothering to hide his disdain. That coffee had been expensive, but more importantly, much needed.

The stranger shuts his mouth immediately, face turning sour. He crosses his arms and takes a step back, all concern lost.

“Gee, I didn’t realise I had to look into every single door I passed by, to check if someone was rushing out of it.”

Jon stands up a little straighter and looks pointedly in the opposite direction of the taller stranger. 

“It doesn’t hurt to be more aware of your surroundings”, he says and then promptly takes off towards work again, smug that he got in the last word against this rude man, who made him spill coffee all over his pants. Ugh, he’d just washed those as well.

He doesn't turn around to look back at the unfortunate stranger, but he can hear a faint “ugh!” as he walks away.

When Jon reaches work, he is tired, cranky, and coffee-less.

He unlocks the door, walks in and closes it behind him with more force than necessary. With a final, overly dramatic sigh, he starts the opening procedures of Magnus Books.

\--

An hour or so later, at a reasonable time to arrive at work, Tim and Sasha arrive, deep in a conversation that seemed to be about Twitter.

“Jon!” Tim slams down his hand on the counter for emphasis, effectively getting Jon’s attention, and also on his nerves.

“Have you been thinking about a battle plan yet?” Tim seems oblivious to Jon tugging on the papers he’s slammed his hand down on, flashing a bright smile and eagerly awaiting Jon’s response.

“Battle plan?” Jon asks, successfully managing to secure the receipts from underneath Tim’s hand.

“Yes!” Tim gestures wildly. “To beat Leitner’s!”

“Right, that,” Jon says dryly, smoothing out the paper.The facade doesn’t last long though, and Jon drops the prickly attitude slightly. 

“No, Tim, sorry. I was rather preoccupied last night with actual work.” He taps a pen against the laptop next to him.Sasha rolls her eyes at him, hip propped up against the counter. 

“Yes Jon, we know you take your work home with you every day, but this is serious, too!” 

Tim is nodding enthusiastically, fishing his phone out of his back pocket. 

“And I think I’ve got just the thing to win back our popularity against that no-good, terrible, god-awful, rotten place,” he says, scrolling through his feed at the speed of light. How he manages to find anything while going that fast is beyond Jon.

“Aha!” he exclaims triumphantly and shoves his phone right up in Jon’s face, who flinches back.    
“See?”

Jon readjusts his glasses slightly and squints at the screen like an old person who can’t figure out phones, which he often feels like he is.    
He is looking at three cats napping on top of each other, in what looks like a cart full of books. Tim swipes and shows more of the cats in different parts of a very cozy bookstore. 

Tim is looking at Jon expectantly, and Jon just stares up at Tim.    
“Those are cats”, he says.

Tim and Sasha sigh in unison, and Tim retracts his phone and pockets it again.

“Very cute cats, in a bookstore, Jon,” Tim explains. “I think that’s what we should do, too! Leitner’s got that stupid mannequin now, attracting customers in for selfies and eventual browsing and buying of books, but us? We have nothing!”

Sasha lightly slaps his arm in offense.

“Oh I’m sorry, we have the best crew working in any bookstore in all of England, of course, but unfortunately, we don’t really attract customers, try as I might,” he winks, and Sasha laughs.

“Well, I think that adding a bookstore cat is a great idea, honestly,” Sasha says. “Just a fat little sweetie to sleep in our corners all day and demand snacks from us? I love it. We can even sell little treat packages to customers, to give to the cat! Only a few a day, of course. I’ll even set up the perfect instagram profile for it!”

“Tim, you could run the page, since you’re on your phone all day anyways,” she teases, and Tim gasps in feigned hurt, draping himself over the counter like a damsel in distress.

“How dare you! I am absolutely doing important stuff on that phone, Jon, tell her that I’m right.”

Jon hums. He isn’t really registering the conversation anymore, and has mostly turned away to look at bank statements on the laptop. Tim’s presence on the counter is normal and easily filters out, and Tim soon extracts himself from it to stand up properly again.

Tim and Sasha continue to chatter away, going through the practised routine of setting up everything, and opening up for the public for the day. 

\--

A few hours pass and the day is going about as usual. Customers coming and going, Tim being his usual nice and charming self, Sasha actually filing and shelving books faster than both Jon and Tim could.

During a lull in customers, while Jon is in the back going through newly arrived antiques, Tim enters and plops himself down on one of the worn chairs in the room.

“By the way, why are your pants covered in coffee stains?” he asks, pointing with a foot in the direction of Jon’s legs.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Jon says with his voice full of venom. “A person ran into me today outside the café where I get my coffee. He made me drop the entire thing, but I was already running late, so I didn’t have time to go back and change. These pants are brown anyways,” he waves his hand dismissively.

Tim tsk’s. “How very rude of this person,” he comments, and Jon just nodds, attention still mostly on the books.

“Anyways,” Tim says, “have you been giving the cat idea a thought?”

Jon finally focuses his attention on Tim, giving him a puzzled look.

“The what?”

Tim waves his phone around. “You know, for our store? Remember the cute cat pictures I showed you earlier?”

“Oh,” Jon answers, faintly remembering that entire conversation. “Right, yes. I didn’t think you were serious.”

“Of course I am! It’s the perfect plan. Besides, we all love cats, right?” Tim flashes another bright smile.

“Hm, I suppose we do.”

“Also, it’s not like our actual boss is ever around. I’m pretty sure we’re free to do whatever we want to, as long as we’re not, y’know, literally burning down the store or something.”

He readjusts his position on the chair, ending up in what couldn’t possibly be comfortable, but apparently is.

“Sasha is on board. She says her family has always had cats, so she’s pretty good at taking care of them. Her only rule is that we have to adopt from a shelter.”

“That seems like a fair rule. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to look at some potential cats from nearby shelters, even if we don’t end up actually adopting one. You know that you two will end up taking care of it, right? I will probably be too busy for that.”

Tim rolls his eyes, but he is smiling and already looking up shelters close to the shop.

“I know, I know, you work-a-holic” he says teasingly, but it’s all fond.

Soon, the two of them are scrolling through the site of a shelter not even twenty minutes away. 

Tim scoffs. “This site is hideous, who built this?” He’s tapping at the screen annoyedly, clearly the site wasn’t built for phone compatibility.

Jon shrugs at this. “Does it really matter? It just has to show us the cats and the contact information.”

“This is why you’re not attracting any customers, Jon,” Tim jokes. Jon just ignores him and looks at the various cats instead.Tim clicks on random available cats and reads up from the descriptions of them.

“Monsieur Cheddar, is an old soul in a kitten’s body. If you want the cuddly, all loving experience of a cat in your lap, but without the energy of a teething kitten, ready to shred your upholstery apart, then Cheddar is the perfect fit for you,” Tim reads, putting on a tv commentator's voice.

Jon can’t help but smile a little at this.

Tim taps on cat after cat, going through the descriptions of them all and getting progressively more over the top with every new cat, now adding gestures and more silly voices. 

By the fifth cat, Jon is outright laughing, barely paying attention to the cats they’re actually trying to look at and decide on.

Then, they come across a cat that looks just absolutely miserable. Tim immediately falters in his voice and gestures, the poor creature looking too cranky and sad to properly make fun of. Jon immediately taps on it though, and a larger picture of the cat greets them.

The cat, grey-ish in colour, is hunched over and glaring at the camera. It clearly doesn’t want to be bothered. It looks a little too thin, and like it absolutely does not want to exist.

This time, Jon reads aloud.

“Mr Crinkles is a very special cat. He was brought to us a year ago, clearly having been abandoned by his past home. This lovely little fellow just needs a warm hand and an understanding person to treat him well.Mr Crinkles doesn’t like other cats, so he should be kept on his own. We’re sure that with a bit of patience, he could be the perfect cat for you.”

“Look at his profile,” Tim snorts.   
“ _ Can be kept with other pets: no. _ _   
_ _ Can be kept with children: no. _

_ Age: Roughly 10+ years. _

This is the most anti-social and miserable cat I have ever seen.”

He sits back and crosses his arms behind his head, “I don’t think anyone is ever going to adopt a cat that old and that hard to bond with.”

But Jon has absolutely tuned him out. He’s staring at the picture of the hunched over cat glaring at him. He takes out his own phone, and quickly copies down the address and phone number to the shelter.

Tim taps Jon’s shoulder, startling him slightly. 

“Jon?” he asks, concerned look on his face. “You looked pretty focused there.”

Jon stands up suddenly, his own chair scraping loudly against the floor. “It’s nothing,” he says, already on his way back to the books. “Forget about this cat thing, I don’t think it’s a good idea after all.”

Tim sighs and gets up as well. “If you say so, boss.” 

And with that, he leaves, leaving Jon with his books and his thoughts.

\--

The work day eventually comes to an end, and after finishing up closing and rejecting Tim and Sasha’s offer to go out and get dinner together, Jon heads off.

Except, he’s not heading home this time. Of course he couldn’t get that sourly looking cat out of his head and of course he had the address memorised. He figured he could at least pay the shelter a visit, to look at some of their other, more adoptable cats. Maybe getting an in shop cat wasn’t a terrible idea, after all. Maybe it was actually a rather nice idea. Not like Jon had any better ideas, anyways.

So he findshimself in front of the shelter. After hesitating for a couple of minutes, he braves the door and enters.

Jon walks into a spacious room, every wall lined with cat toys, food, beds, and other cat appropriate things. He’s so busy taking it all in that he doesn’t even notice the man entering the room from behind a door.

“Hello!” the man says, and Jon spins around on the spot, looking at the source of the greeting. 

As it turns out, it is a tall man, all curly hair and smiles.

He is wearing a bright yellow apron, with, honestly, too many badges with really bad cat puns on them.

Jon opens his mouth to return the greeting, but suddenly freezes.

The other man freezes as well, smile vanished from his face.

Realisation hits them both.

“Oh.” The man says, his mouth turned into a tight line of disdain. “It’s you.”

“Er,” Jon looks away, the nearby wall of high quality cat food suddenly very fascinating. “It is.”

“Well,” the man crosses his arms as he stares down Jon. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, obviously, I’m here to adopt a cat,” Jon says, his tone equally as short as the other man’s.

“Are you here for a specific cat, because you know, we aren’t a pet sho-”

“Yes, in fact, I am here for Mr Crinkles,” Jon interrupts, completely ignoring the fact that the words “Mr Crinkles” are incredibly hard to say while still trying to lookcool and collected.

The man startles and drops his arms down. “Oh. Well. O-okay then, but just know that that particular cat can’t just be um, adopted like that.” He’s already on his way back through the door from where he came out, motioning for Jon to follow him.

Jon hurries in after him, confused at the sudden change in behaviour, but not willing to question it.

“As you might have read on the page, he’s rather uh… Shy.”

Jon follows through a room of empty cages, the cats apparently out for outside time elsewhere. They stop in front of a cage in the far back, away from the others.

“Oh, I’m Martin, by the way, I’m in charge of the adoption process here”, he reaches out, and opens up the wide cage.

“I’m Jon,” Jon replies, trying to get a good look inside the cage. Bundled up between blankets and pillows, is Mr Crinkles, already looking impressively annoyed that he is being woken up from his nap.

Martin tuts at the cat, letting it sniff at his hand, before reaching in completely and scooping him up. The cat makes a little croaky meow in return, but settles in Martin’s arms easily.

“I’m the only one allowed to hold him like this,” Martin says, clearly very proud of this fact.

“I see,” Jon comments, tentatively reaching a hand out for Mr Crinkles to inspect.

“Don’t be disappointed if he ignores you. He ignores almost everyone. Worst case scenario, he bites you. Best case, he turns away.”

But surprising to both Jon and Martin, Mr Crinkles sniffs Jon’s outstretched hand, and then gently bumps his little head against it.

Martin gasp, and lets Mr Crinkles jump back into his cage.

Jon looks at the cat, already nestling back down into his soft pillows, and then turns back at Martin.

“I take it he likes me, then?” Jon is barely even trying to hide how smug he truly is and Martin frowns.

“I guess he’s just having a good day,” he answers, turning away and walking down the hall again. Jon quickly follows him, leaving Mr Crinkles to his nap.

“Does this mean you’ll let me adopt him?” Jon asks.

“It does not,” Martin replies matter-of-factly. He leads them back to the meeting room with all the cat toys and quickly closes the door behind them to the actual shelter. The entire visit to Mr Crinkles had barely lasted five minutes.

“Wh-” Jon starts, “why not?! The cat liked me, I can’t see why you won’t let me adopt him.”

“Well, I simply don’t let rude people adopt my cats,” Martin says, arms folded in defiance.

Jon lets out a very undignified splutter, looking horribly offended. “Why, I never-  _ You _ bumped into  _ me _ ! And it’s not like I came out of that unfortunate encounter unscathed! I got coffee all over me, too, you know!”

But Martin just turns his head without comment, clearly feeling like no more needed to be said, and clearly unwilling to let Jon adopt Mr Crinkles.

“Fine,” Jon says after a few moments of silence. “Be like that. Immature.” And with that, he raced out the shelter, slamming the door behind him and feeling very much like the universe was being incredibly unfair.

\--

“He was _ horrible _ , Daisy. Absolutely the worst!” Martin put down a bag of litter sand more forcefully than he probably should have, but it felt a little good to get his frustrations out on the undeserving sand.

Daisy made a non-committal hum, just like she had to all the other outbursts Martin had been prone to during the last hour after this so called “Jon”, had left.

“He spills coffee all over me, he  _ refuses _ to apologise, he comes in asking for my favourite cat and said cat actually tolerates him! Can you believe it!”

“Oh, I certainly can't,” Daisy said, watching Martin stomp angrily through his chores at the shelter, an amused grin on her face.

“Just as I’m about to practically adopt Mr Crinkles myself, this absolute nightmare of a person waltzes into my life, as if the gods are playing some cruel joke on me. Is this karma? From that time when I was ten and I pushed the neighbor kid down?”

  
“Probably,” Daisy said simply. “I don’t know, Martin. I kinda liked him,” her grin grows wider at the pained look Marting gives her at this.

“You  _ liked _ him? You saw the entire thing?”

“Of course I did. I like him. He’s awkward.”

Martin groaned.

“Anyways, what are you doing on your day off tomorrow?” Daisy asks from over her shoulder, as she’s decided to actually get some work done so that they could go home.

“Hm? Oh, I’m picking up that poetry collection I’ve ordered. Got a text earlier that it has arrived, so I’m thinking about going to a nice café to read a little in it. Just to relax, you know, gotta enjoy not being scratched and cleaning up cat piss all day.”

Daisy laughs. “You’d do anything for any of these cats. You love them all and you know it.”

Martin sighs heavily. “Yes. Yes I do.”

They eventually manage to get everything in order and they both call out their usual goodbye to the actual owner of the shelter, an elusive man who presumably lives in the building somewhere and keeps an eye on the cats while they’re gone. Not that they’ve ever encountered him outside of their initial hiring process, but he clearly takes care of the cats when they’re not there. Somehow.

They part ways in front of the shop, Daisy telling Martin to enjoy his poetry collection and Martin ensuring Daisy that he will.

He goes home, tired from the day, thoughts all ending up on the very rude man from earlier and how Martin would never ever give up Mr Crinkles to someone as awful as him. He promises himself that he’ll give it another month or so, and then he’ll actually make good on his promise and take the cat home, no matter how little space he has in his flat.

No way is Jon ever getting him. 

Ever.


	2. How to (not) apologise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin unfortunately runs into Jon again, it's awkward for everyone involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again I'd like to thank Chao for being the most amazing person in the world and beta'ing this. Love you.

Jon is being huffier than usual. Sasha notices this as soon as she turns up for work, her double spiced chai latte (with extra vanilla syrup, cinnamon,  _ and  _ chocolate) clutched protectively to her body as Jon is moving around the narrow shop with a speed that suggests he had consumed an obscene amount of caffeine.

He is also talking about something at a very high pitch, but he doesn’t clearly elaborate when Sasha gently tries to get some explanation out of him.

It takesTim forcefully grabbing him by the shoulders and forcing him into a chair to get any clear answers out of him.

Jon’s leg is bouncing up and down in a coffee fueled frustration as he starts talking.

“So, well, remember that thing we were talking about yesterday?” he begins. “Well, I know I said getting a cat was a stupid idea, but despite my own reasoning I still went to the shelter to see one of the cats we found yesterday.” He doesn’t bother waiting for any sort of response from either of them and Tim and Sasha just resign themselves to giving each other a  _ Look _ and waiting patiently for Jon to finish.

“Wait, I should start even earlier. Remember how I was covered in coffee stains yesterday?” Jon gestures to his pants in demonstration, even if this pair is clean and coffee stain-less.

“Well, the rude person who bumped into me turned out to work at the shelter. And he, completely unreasonably, refuses to let me adopt a cat!” Jon sits back and crosses his arms.

Sasha holds up a hand. “Wait, hang on. So the guy is refusing to let you adopt a cat exactly  _ why _ ?”

“He thinks  _ I’m _ the rude one!” Jon throws his arms in disbelief.

“I see,” Sasha says, looking like she was carefully considering her next choice of words. “And, not that I don’t believe you Jon, why do  _ you  _ think he would say that?”

Jon thinks for a few seconds, then sighs bitterly. “Well, maybe I was, perhaps, the one who rushed out the door before looking where I was going,” he mutters.

“So I spilled my coffee on him and myself because… I didn’t notice him.” He crosses his arms again and looks like a child getting a scolding he doesn’t think he deserves.

Tim stifles a laugh behind his hand. “That sounds plausible, boss. You do get lost in thought a lot and you tend to forget other people exist.”

Sasha nods “So maybe, just this once, you were actually in the wrong.”

Jon lets himself slide further down onto the chair, pouting. 

“Perhaps.”

Sasha pats his shoulder. “I’m proud of you for admitting that to yourself. Now, if you’re so dead set on adopting this mystery cat, maybe the next logical step for you would be to apologize to this poor man you spilled coffee all over.”

“Apologise?!” Jon just about shrieks, then gathers himself again and clears his throat. “I don’t think that’s really necessary,” he adds.

“C’mon Jon, we’re all on board with the idea anyways and if you fell in love with some cat already, do it for the entire team. For the good of the store?” Tim pleads.

“Maybe get him a little gift for emphasis, so he really knows that you’re genuinely sorry,” Sasha suggests.

Jon huffs again. “Like what? I’m not about to spend a lot of money on some guy I don’t even know, just to adopt a cat.”

“Maybe a gift card to a coffee shop? Basic enough that anyone could use one, but thoughtful enough that he’d know it was sincere,” Tim says and Sasha nods enthusiastically.

“A gift card is a good idea! You can even write a little personalised message inside. Tim you’re so smart.”

Tim beams “Aww thank you Sash, I’m actually great at presents.”

Jon can feel the conversation turning away from him and he subtly tries to extract himself from the chair, so he could leave the two of them and get back to work for the day. He almost got away with it, when Sasha caught him by the elbow.

“Not so fast. We’re serious about this. So I really think you should take a half day off today to get the card and deliver it. Leave after lunch, you know we can handle the store on our own, and it’s not like you’re behind on work, Mister I-bring-home-work-on-weekends.”

With a snort, Jon shakes her off his arm. “Fine. Fine, if you both think this will make everything better and put us on the path to finally getting that cat, I’ll leave work early today.”

Sasha smiles back at him, a warm and genuine smile. Jon vaguely thinks that maybe she just wants him to work less. He turns away and starts to sort through the day's work.

\--

He has almost forgotten about the whole apology thing and how to articulate one, when just after opening time the bell above the door chimes, forcing Jon to look up from the ancient work computer filled with numbers and order forms and look at the person who just walked in.

It’s Martin.

Jon almost knocks a stand of postcards down from the counter when he stands up. He quickly manages to grab it, frantically setting it down again. Martin looks over at the noise and locks his eyes on Jon. His entire face screws into a grimace.

“Hi there!” Tim bounces into view from behind a bookcase. “Can I help you with anything?”

Martin quickly changes his expression into a careful neutral one, looking completely normal and not like Jon’s mere presence caused him physical pain a few seconds ago.

“Ah, yeah hi, I um, I ordered a book last week and I got a text that it’s in?” He says, his tone perfectly pleasant.

Tim nods and waves him along, walking towards the counter where Jon is quickly scrambling to make himself sparse.    
“Of course! What’s your name?”

Jon manages to duck behind the bookcase from where Tim had just emerged, close enough to listen in on the conversation, but out of view from the pair. Sasha is shelving books there, and looks at him with a puzzled expression. He quickly makes a silent shushing gesture, ignoring the fact that he knew that Tim and Sasha absolutely had not been working.

“Martin Blackwood,” Martin replies. He chooses to ignore the fact that he just saw Jon very ungracefully flee the scene.

Tim types away at the keyboard on the computer and then reaches down under the counter where they keep book orders. He plucks out a book and holds it out for Martin to inspect. 

“Modern love poems, a collection, right?”

Martin nods and takes the book. “Yes! Thank you.”

Tim turns back to the computer and skims over the order. “I see you’ve also ordered the second volume, it was supposed to arrive tomorrow but I’m sorry, seems like it’s been delayed a little. We’ll get it next week at the latest, of course we’ll send you another text when it’s here, really sorry about that.” Tim smiles at Martin apologetically.

“Oh, no no that’s fine! I’ll just be back for it next week then, thank you for telling me. Sorry for bothering you with it.” He puts the book into his backpack and slings it over his shoulder. “See you next week then!” 

“We’ll be seeing you!” Tim replies with a little wave, and with that Martin leaves the store.

Jon tumbles back into view, staring at the now closed door where Martin had just been. Tim raises his eyebrows at him.

“What was that?” He asks, startling Jon back into reality.

“What was what?” Jon counters.

Tim waves in the general direction of the door. “ _ That _ . You see this man enter our store, you panic completely and you disappear. What was that abou- oh. Wait. Jon.”

But Jon notices that Tim has caught on, and is promptly trying to make another escape to the back room, away from Tim’s questions.Tim catches him by the collar, yanking him back.

“That was  _ him _ , wasn’t it? Martin here is your rude coffee boy!” Tim has that look in his eyes that only means trouble, and Jon dreads the conversation that is about to happen.

“Ugh, stop manhandling me.” He wiggles out of Tim’s loose grip on him and smoothes down his collar. “Yes, if you must know, that was him.”

“Incredible. You made enemies with what seemed like the most lovely and nice person on the planet. Did you hear how he apologised for being a bother? Because _ his _ book was late? Jon I know you’re a prickly type who has trouble making friends, but this is another level even for you.” 

Tim solemnly places a heavy hand on Jon’s shoulder. “You really need to apologise. He deserves it.”

Jon brushes the hand off. “Fine, I get it. Just let me live.”

\--

Lunch comes along and Jon silently hopes that Sasha has forgotten that he said he’d leave by now. Alas, luck was not with him that day, because right as he finishes eating, Sasha knocks on the break room door, popping in her head.

“Hey Jon, don’t forget that you promised to leave now and go get that apology present for poor Martin.” She is smiling and he knows that she relishes in sending him home.

He pushes the chair he was sitting on away from the table with a groan. “I know, I know. I’ll leave now if it’ll make you happy.” He gathers up his bag and slowly puts on his coat.

“It will, thank you.” She gives him a small thumbs up, then retreats back into the store. Jon sighs.

Eventually he can’t drag on putting on his coat and bag any longer, and when he finally says goodbye to Tim and Sasha, they again promise him that they were fine and could absolutely handle the store on their own. He just nods in return and leaves them to it.

As soon as he is out, he turns on his phone and locates his messages. Typing quickly, he sends a text to the only person he knew would help him make a proper apology note with minimal judgement.

**Jonathan Stims** : Georgie I need assistance.

**Cat Queen** : hey jon whatup?

**Jonathan Stims:** I messed up a little, and now I need to apologise to someone. What’s the best way to sound sincere without giving up your dignity?

**Cat Queen:** oh jonathan sims, actually apologising to someone? has the end times come? wake me up i must be dreaming

**Jonathan Stims:** Ha Ha.

**Cat Queen:** anyways, how bad is it? do you need to send flowers??

Jon manages to explain to Georgie what had happened without it sounding like everything was Martin’s fault. He is rather proud of himself for that.

Georgie only laughs at him a little, but proves very helpful with tips on how to sound like you’re sorry. She also tells him he should actually  _ be _ sorry as well, but he chooses to ignore this tip.

She agrees that a gift card is a good idea, if a little bland.

Jon puts his phone away and goes to his favourite café to get it, when he walks by an antiques store and something in the display window catches his eye. 

On top of a white decorative table with doilies scattered around, is a collection of small porcelain figures, the kind grandma’s always have on their shelves. In the middle, surrounded by a couple of birds and sheep, is a cat figure. It is cream in colour and looks at Jon with a concerned look in its painted eyes.

Gift card and café forgotten, Jon enters the antiques store and buys the little porcelain cat instead.

\--

  
  


Martin drags himself to work, body tired and sluggish. It’s not that he didn’t get enough sleep, he even went to bed on time, but his surprise meeting with Jon at, presumably the book store where he worked, drained him of all energy that day.

He had gone to his favourite café that has reasonable prices, he had ordered his favourite drink and sat in his favourite spot, and yet, he couldn’t enjoy his new book. 

Every turn of the page, he was reminded of where the book had come from and who he had met there and the experience turned sour.

In the end, he had given up, bitterly downed the rest of his order, packed up and gone home. He had then continued to shoot annoyed glances at the book for the rest of the day, mulling over the interaction earlier, and wondered if this petty grudge was really worth it. All in all, he had ended up spending his entire day off thinking about Jon and it had absolutely ruined the day. 

So now, here he is, the day after and on his way to work, no energy left to properly think.

Martin opens the door to the shelter with a sigh, enters and flicks on the lights before closing the door again. He drags his hands over his face and wills himself to start moving again and get to work.

He is halfway through greeting the cats and filling up the food tray when Daisy shows up. She shrugs off her coat with her standard nod in place of a greeting and Martin just waves halfheartedly in her general direction.

“What’s the matter?” Daisy nudges him with her foot and he shifts a little where he was crouched by the food.

“Nothing,” he says tiredly, convincing no one.

“Mhm, somehow I don’t believe that. Spill.” Daisy is effortlessly throwing extra bags of cat food over her shoulder to put away, reminding Martin that she  _ would _ drop them all on him if he kept being like that.

He straightens up and lets the last cat out for the day, it hurries over to the windowsill and comfortably settles down next to another cat. Martin looks at them enviously, how he’d love to be a cat taking a nap next to another cat.

“Fine, alright. Remember the awkward guy from a few days ago? Who wanted to adopt Mr Crinkles, but I refused him because he had spilled coffee on me earlier that day?”

Daisy just hums in response, busy with detangling a pair of kittens from each other.

“Well, it just so happens that he works at the nice little book store where I always order my books, so of course I ran into him yesterday when I went to pick up that book I told you about. Daisy, it was so weird. As soon as he saw me, he practically ran t away.”

Martin kicks a plush toy a little harder away than he has to as punctuation, the pastel coloured toy absolutely not deserving of this rough treatment, but he doesn’t care.

“He ruined my poetry collection, Daisy! I couldn’t stop thinking about his stupid face while I was reading yesterday, I had to stop completely! And, here’s the worst part-” he throws his hands in the air, “-I have to wait in agony for another week until the next volume comes in and I can pick it up. I can’t even get it over with!”

Daisy pats him on the back, her strong hands always hitting a little too hard. “Can’t you cancel your order and get it at another place?”

Martin shakes his head. “No I’ve already paid for it, it’d be a hassle to call them to cancel and refund it and even more annoying to order it from another place. These were special editions.”

He picks up a small glittery crinkly toy and looks at it with a scowl.

“You know, I-I don’t think all of this would be so terrible if Jon had just been civil about it in the first place! If he’d just apologised when he spilled coffee all over me or when he had come in to see Mr Crinkles, I might even have let him start the adoption process! But no, he had to be an awful human being at the coffee shop and then also was terrible when he was here. It’s like he only knows how to be rude.”

“Martin, if this is really bothering you so much, maybe you should just forget about it and move on? Wouldn’t that, you know, make you feel better?”

Martin ponders on this for a few seconds, before deciding that no, he isn’t going to be the bigger person here. His dignity is on the line.

“No,” he says. “I think not.”

Daisy grins. “Whatever. This is more fun for me anyways.” Martin throws the crinkly toy in her direction, but she swiftly catches it and throws it back in his face.

Martin is just about to make a comment on this, when he hears the front door open. He quickly abandones the crinkly toy, and goes out to greet the person who just entered. 

It’s Jon.

He’s looking awfully like he wishes he could be anywhere but here. In his right hand, he’s clutching a small gift bag.

When he sees Martin enter, he instantly pulls up his shoulders, making himself look even smaller than he already is.

“I uh, I’m here to… That is, I came to…” he falters a little, not looking at Martin, knuckles white on the flimsy gift bag.

“You’re here to… what?” Martin isn’t in the mood for this, he just wants Jon out of here so he can go about his day in peace.

Jon abruptly holds out the gift bag for Martin, who looks at it like it might be poisoned. 

“Please just take the damn thing,” Jon mutters and Martin complies, taking the bag from him.

When Jon doesn’t elaborate and still refuses to look Martin in the eye, he dares a peek into the bag. Inside is a little card and some colourful paper, carefully wrapped around a small lump. Martin sits the bag on the counter and takes out the lump, examining it. 

Jon coughs nervously, “I-I meant to say that I’m here to… apologise. To you. About the whole… Thing. Spilling coffee on you, being rude to you about the coffee and also here. That was… Not okay of me and I acknowledge that. I’m sorry.” Jon cringes in on himself, this went so much smoother when he had practiced earlier.

By now, Martin had unwrapped the package and is holding a little porcelain cat.

When Jon doesn’t hear any sort of reaction from him, he dares to look over and see if something is wrong.

What he sees is Martin hiding behind a hand, his laugh barely stifled. His entire face is red with the effort it took him and his body is shaking.

Jon immediately flushes red, fists clenched by his side.

“A-are you laughing at me? At my apology? I’m sorry if isn’t up to your standards but-” he doesn’t get any further before Martin can’t contain himself any longer, openly laughing and shaking his head at him.

“Oh my god, no it’s not that, even if it was rather tame, no it’s just,” he’s barely keeping it together, and Jon considers just walking out of there.

Martin holds up the porcelain cat for Jon to see. “It’s so ugly, Jon. This is your apology? A miserable little porcelain cat? You honestly saw this and thought I’d be happy with this and bought it for me, to say you’re sorry.”

Jon crosses his arms defensively. “Well,” he murmurs, “you’re laughing, aren’t you?”

And you know what? Martin has to give him that. He is laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope y'all are enjoying my art in this fic because drawing that cat made me laugh so much it was hard to draw


	3. Being interrupted at work is okay when it's you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They exchange phone numbers. The rest comes naturally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I'd like to once again thank Chao for being the literal best. An angel. I love you Chao.  
> Thank you guys SO much for the comments on the last chapter!! Might have passed out a little from sheer joy.

Jon is feeling awfully good about himself. Near smug, actually.  _ Who knew _ ? he briefly ponders,  _ that making someone laugh felt this good _ ? Never mind that he had to apologise to do it. He quietly files away the thought that he actually quite likes Martin’s laugh.

_ Anyways _ .

At this point, Martin has packed away the little porcelain cat in it’s protective wrapping again, and is looking at Jon with a smile. Jon decides he also quite likes Martin’s smile directed at him, actually.The gift bag is stored under the counter for later.

“So,” Martin begins, gesturing to the backdoor which leads to where the cats are. “Do you still want to adopt Mr Crinkles?”

Right, that’s why he was here, Jon remembers.

“Oh, y-yes. Yes, I’d like to.” Jon pulls himself back to this plane of existence and focuses on why he’s here in the first place. The cat.

Martin hums softly in response and looks Jon up and down. Jon squirms a little under his gaze. He doesn’t know what Martin is looking for, but he hopes he finds it.

“Why that particular cat?”   
  
“What?”   
  
“Why Mr Crinkles?” Martin crosses his arms, but he doesn’t sound accusing anymore. Just curious. 

“Oh. Um,” Jon considers telling Martin about the whole “get a cat for the store to gain popularity” thing, thinks better of it just in case Martin disapproves of such a thing and then surprisingly realises that he actually doesn’t have any intention of taking Mr Crinkles to the store at all. He really just wants a cat for himself and all it took was Tim’s silly ideas for the shop for him to realise.

Jon opens and closes his mouth like a very intelligent fish, “I just… I really like cats? And I saw him on your site and I couldn’t stop thinking about how he seemed like a perfect fit for, well. For me. I uh, I actually have co-ownership of a cat already, but… I’d love my own,” he finally manages to get out, promptly shutting his mouth again in fear of sounding even more stupid than he already does.

But Martin just nods. He’s still regarding Jon with that look Jon can’t quite figure out, but he doesn’t frown or send Jon away.

“I’m not going to sugarcoat it; Mr Crinkles is a very fussy cat. We got him off from the street, where the local people told us his original family left him because they couldn’t have cats at their new place. He’s been returned to us three times now, and every time he’s lost a little more trust in people. He uses his claws and teeth frequently if he’s unhappy, which he often is, and he isn’t a cuddly sort of cat.”

Jon’s heart breaks a little for this poor cat. 

“I’m not going to just let you take him home right away, that wouldn’t be fair to him. If you really want to adopt him, you have to come see him as often as you can until he’s completely used to you and trusts you, then I’ll let you adopt him. It could take a week, it could take months. Are you okay with that?”

Jon nods once. “I am. I think that’s the right way to go about this as well.”

Martin gives Jon a bright smile and pulls out his phone. “Here, let me get your number so I can give you updates on him. You can ask me anything you want to, to get yourself better prepared, too.” He’s holding out his phone for Jon to input his number, and Jon scrambles to take it.

“Of course, yes. Very good,” Jon fumbles with the phone to hit the right buttons, and with the number saved, Jon hands back the phone for Martin.

“Jonathan Sims, huh?” Martin looks at the display with Jon’s name and number on it. “Guess we’re even now, we both know each other's full names,” he gives another warm smile and Jon’s heart skips a little. Weird.

“Oh um, yes. Yes I guess that’s only fair,” Jon awkwardly fiddles with his own phone. “Sorry about that before in the store, by the way. I uh, I didn’t mean to disappear and let Tim- my coworker, handle everything. I might have panicked a little,” he’s rubbing at his neck, words just sort of spilling out.  _ Shut up you idiot _ , he thinks to himself. _ Please just shut up. _

“A-anyways,” he clears his throat and straightens up, “I guess I’ll be going now. I’ll, um, I’ll see you soon? Well, to see Mr Crinkles, you know. Right,” he’s already halfway out the door in his hurry to escape himself and this conversation that’s slowly killing him. 

“Bye!” ith a final wave, he’s out.

Martin blinks a few times and looks at the door. He can see Jon practically sprinting down the street from the windows and he chuckles softly.

As if on cue, Daisy appears soundlessly right at Martin’s side. Martin nearly jumps half a meter into the air.

“Jesus christ, Daisy. Stop sneaking up on me,” he tries to calm his racing heart. How she can still do that is baffling him.

She grins at him, “No.”

He rolls his eyes and makes to go into the backroom, but Daisy blocks his path. He raises his eyebrow at her.

“I can’t believe you did that.” She’s still wearing that grin.

Martin sighs. “Did what?”

“Oh you know,” she tilts her head to the side, “actually let someone adopt your one true love.”

Martin moves past her with a groan and she lets him leave, laughing as she follows him into the back. 

“Look, he-he apologised, okay? He even brought me this cute porcelain cat figure, how could I say no to that?”

“Oh so it’s cute now? I thought you deemed it ugly.”

Martin gives her a withering look he knows won’t affect her even a tiny bit, but it’s the principle of it.

“Will you stop listening in on my conversations?”

“The ones with the bastard who spilled coffee all over you? No.”

  
Martin just sighs in defeat. 

“Whatever.” He then smiles softly, thinking of the terrible apology Jon had managed. 

“It’s a cute figure, okay?”.

\--

Tim likes to think that he's a very perceptive kind of person. He generally likes and understands people, and will always try his best to talk to his friends if they’re feeling down. But Jon has always been a hard person to read, which has endlessly frustrated Tim. He also refuses to elaborate beyond a simple “fine” if Tim asks him how he’s doing, so Tim has more or less given up trying to understand the man.

But today, something is different. Tim has been observing Jon ever since he got in, and something is up. Jon is notably in a better mood than usual, a lot less pricklier, too, and while Tim does appreciate the change, he’s also confused by it.

He takes a long sip of his drink, eyes still on Jon.

“Hey,” he nudges Sasha who’s otherwise busy going through a catalog they just received from a supplier. “Does Jon seem… different to you?”

She looks up and over at Jon, then back to Tim. 

“Yes. He’s in a good mood, isn’t he?”

Tim nods in agreement. “Precisely. When I asked how he was earlier, I even got a “good” instead of the usual “fine”. What do you think happened?” another slurp of his drink. Sasha eyes it suspiciously.

“I don’t know, maybe he found his favourite bookmark?” she shrugged, “what are you even drinking this time? What did the baristas concoct for you today? It smells really strongly of caramel.”

Tim swirled his drink around in the large to go cup, licking his lips. “They called it a “Caramel King Supreme. I’m not entirely sure what’s in it, but it was definitely more espresso than what I should have. Not to mention the whipped cream and coconut flakes they put on top.”

Sasha nods understandingly. “Is it better than yesterday’s, what was it… Super Duper Chocolate Extreme?”

Tim gulped down the rest of the caramel freak of nature and tossed the cup in the nearby bin. 

“Loads, but I love getting surprised every day, it’s fun,” he flashes his signature smile and Sasha just rolls her eyes fondly.

“Anyways,” Tim continues, pointing back at Jon. “I have to know what’s up.”

Sasha swats him with the catalog, “leave him alone Tim, just let him have a good day without you bothering him about it.”

“Aw, come on, admit you’re curious,” Tim says teasingly.

Sasha considers this, eyes on Jon, who is blissfully unaware he is being discussed.

“Maybe it’s the fault of whoever’s on the other end of those messages? Noticed how he’s texting an awful lot this morning? It can’t be Georgie, they never text this much.”

“Oh my god,” Tim says, “now I have to know who it is.” He quickly gets up, ignores Sasha’s hisses about how he should absolutely keep his nose to himself and strides over to Jon.

“Hey Jon,” Tim bumps his hip on the table where Jon is supposed to be inputting numbers on the computer, “who ya texting there?”

Jon stutters and pockets his phone, as if he had just been caught with his hand deep in the cookie jar. “N-no one,” he mumbles, avoiding Tim’s gaze.

“Uh-huh, sure. Now please just tell me.”

Jon looks a little harder down at the keyboard in front of him, then gives up with a sigh and retrieves his phone again.

“It’s, um, it’s Martin. The cat shelter guy, remember?”

Tim lights up and Jon draws back a little in anticipation.

“The coffee guy? The sweetest guy in the universe? That Martin?” Tim is somehow enjoying this too much and Jon immediately regrets telling him.

“Yes, that Martin. He accepted my apology and has agreed to let me see the cat until he thinks it's okay that I adopt him. I’m simply texting him about the proper things I need to get in order, and tips about what I should buy.”

“Sure, boss. I can’t believe the reason for your exceptional good mood today is  _ Martin _ .”

Jon huffs and turns his attention to the computer in front of him, clicking at a few things on the screen, clearly trying to show Tim that he is done with this conversation and would very much like for him to leave him alone now, thank you very much.

Tim gets the hint, and leaves with a chuckle.

\--

“Martin?”   
  


“Hm?”

“ _ Martin _ .”

“Hmm?”

Daisy watches Martin, who has for the past week been intently chatting away on his phone with increasing regularity. He’s more often lost in the messages than in the work they’re supposed to be doing, and while Daisy does in fact not mind and is happy Martin seems to have more friends outside of his relatively small friend pool, she’s also just a little surprised it ended up being Jon at the other end of those messages.

She finally picks up a vaguely mouse shaped toy and tosses it directly into Martin’s face.

He yelps and the toy drops to the ground by his feet. His head snaps in Daisy’s direction with a comically outraged expression.

“What was  _ that  _ for?” He’s rubbing the spot right on his forehead where the mouse hit. 

“You weren’t paying attention to what I was saying,” Daisy shrugs and points over at a corner with a few boxes with a relaxed flick of her wrist. “I asked if you were going to put those away any time soon, or just chat with Jon all day.”

Martin scoffs and quickly puts away his phone in his apron pocket. “I do not chat with Jon all day, he just had another question.”

“Mhmm, I believe you. I just think it’s funny how you lose your ability to pay attention to the outside world when he texts.”

Martin hoists up a box with a small grunt, “I,  _ oof _ , I do not.” Daisy continues to watch him with a relaxed smile on her face. This is honestly the most entertainment she’s had in a while, and she greatly enjoys Martin struggling to come up with new excuses as to why his nose is in his phone yet again, expression all soft and happy.

She follows Martin with her gaze as he puts down the box in its actual designated space and watches him idly reach for his phone again, probably to check if Jon had answered in the few seconds he’d put the phone down.

“What did he ask about this time that was so important then?”

  
“You know, maybe you should focus on work instead of my messages,” Martin sniffs indignantly, already reaching for the next box. With a little  _ oompfh _ , he picks it up, completely ignoring Daisy.

She steps in front of him. She isn’t much taller than him but she still somehow manages to loom. “Just answer the question.” She grabs the box from his grasp with a grin, reaching up to set it on the high shelf just out of reach. Martin rolls his eyes.

“Fine, you’re so nosy. He sent me a picture of a food bowl he’d found online and asked if it was acceptable.”

“You were smiling over Jon using the word ‘acceptable’?”

Martin fiddles with the hem of his apron, looking at the loose threads in the corner of it. He’d have to mend that soon, he thinks.

“Well, no. He also asked how I was doing, you know, being polite. And when I mentioned that I missed my stop this morning because a person was in the way, he went on a long rant about how the same thing happened to him last week because a person much taller than him didn’t see him, a-and well, it was… it was funny.”

Daisy nods, finding the explanation satisfying. She retrieves the box from its high point, and plops it back into Martin’s arms, who barely manages to grab hold of it before she loses her hold on it.

“It’s very cute, but remember to do your job.”

Martin swallows and quickly shuffles off to deposit the box in the office, where it belongs.

“When are you seeing him again?” Martin stops in his tracks and looks back at Daisy.

“What do you mean?”

  
“Aren’t you picking up that other book where he works this week?”

Martin immediately brightens, like he’d just now remembered that Jon works at the store where he had placed his order for the poetry book.

“You’re right! I’m picking it up tomorrow. Thanks for reminding me, Daisy.”

_ Goodnes _ , Daisy thinks.  _ He’s already lost _ .

\--

The next day comes quickly and Martin makes his way to the bookstore to pick up his book. Unlike last time, he is also looking forward to this for another reason. Texting with Jon was great and all, but it’s another thing in person.

The soft jangle of the bells announces his presence at the store and there is Jon, immediately looking up from his computer at the desk.

Martin gives Jon a bright smile as a greeting and is pleased to find that he gets a surprised little smile in return.

“Martin!”

He quickly makes his way over to where Jon is sitting.

“Hi, Jon. How’re you?” Martin is now resting his arms on the counter, leaning into Jon’s space with ease.

From the sidelines, Tim is watching with big eyes, drinking it all in. He not-so-subtly nudges Sasha with his foot, but she ignores him and continues to scan barcodes.

“Oh, you know, great morning. No one made me spill coffee at all today,” Jon teases. Tim gapes and sharply turns to Sasha, nudging her again to her great annoyance. 

“Sasha, Sasha, he made a _ joke _ ,” he whispers down to her. She gives him a withering look that tells him to knock it off, but he simply turns back to watch the conversation unfold.

Martin laughs “Oh, it isn’t so bad to drop your coffee every once in a while. It could lead you anywhere, you know.”

Jon scoffs, but there is none of the usual scorn in his tone or features, he is actually just having a normal conversation with someone. Tim is in disbelief.

“I’m sure it could. Anyways, I’ve got your book ready here,” Jon slides the poetry book over to Martin who picks it up and turns it over. 

“Thanks, Jon. I still haven’t finished the other one, but I’m glad you still got this one in so quickly.” 

Jon hums in response and clicks away on the computer, setting the order to “picked up”.

“I do have to go now, but I’ll see you later?”

“Yes, of course. See you later, Martin.”

Martin smiles softly again, bags his new book and waves goodbye to Jon. Jon wavsd back and watched Martin leave the store.

Tim rushes out from behind his hiding spot as soon as the door has closed, pointing accusingly at Jon.

“You’re gonna  _ see him later _ ?” 

Jon squints at Tim and his dramatic stance.

“Yes. To see the cat I’m adopting, remember? That’s why I’ve been texting him?”

Tim lowers his arm, but he still doesn’t seem convinced.

“Sure, boss. Sure.”

\--

Tim and Sasha had managed to convince Jon to come along for one of their after work drinks for once, and while they had both initially been positively surprised, they are now whispering amongst themselves, casting sideways glances at Jon, who was in fact not paying attention to them or the drink in front of him, but to his phone.

“Sasha, it’s been almost three weeks. He will not stop texting Martin, I’m getting worried.”

Sasha makes a quiet shushing gesture at him, urging him to lower his voice. He mouths a ‘why?’ in response and nods in Jon’s direction.

“He’s not paying us _ any _ attention. I swear, it’s like we don’t exist.” Tim lowers his voice just a tad.

“I know. But I think it’s good, he finally has someone besides us to text. Us, Georgie, and Elias, at least.”

Tim wrinkles his nose at the mention of their boss and Sasha at least has the decency to look apologetic.

“But Sasha, I heard him laugh at two separate occasions today at work. He _ never  _ laughs that much,” he traces his finger along the top of his own glass and looks at Jon’s barely touched one.

Sasha huffs softly,. “Oh, the world is ending because Jonathan Sims laughs?” she gives his hand a little slap, “give him some more credit, Tim.”

Jon finally looks up from his phone, the soft blue glow from the screen casting a sharp light at the slightly dazed expression on his face, like he’d just woken up from a dream and found himself here all of a sudden.

“Did you say something, Sasha?”

Sasha shakes her head and leans her head on her hand. “Nah, don’t worry about it. How’s Martin?”

Jon looks at his phone a little sheepishly, he was aware that they’d been teasing him about being absorbed in something other than work for once, and how out of character it was.

“He’s, um, he’s good. He just texted me to say that Daisy is forcing him to watch some movie with her, so I’m getting all his reactions.” The fond little smile on his face is adorable, Sasha thinks. She likes that look on him way more than his usual scowl.

His phone lights up again and he quickly turns his attention away from Sasha and to the phone. Martin must have sent something truly great, because there is that soft happy smile plastered on Jon’s face again. Incredible. Sasha ignores Tim’s questioning look and simply shushes him.

“What’d he say then?”

“Hm? Oh, uh, well, he-he just sent a picture of um, of Mr Crinkles that he took earlier. It’s, it’s very cute.”

“Well then, let’s see,” she motiones for him to hand over the phone, and he gives it to her.

On the phone is a picture of a scraggly looking cat, curled up in a lovely croissant pose, sleeping soundly. Sasha cooes at it and returnes the phone to Jon’s outstretched hand.

  
“He’s very cute when he sleeps like that.”

Jon nodds, “yes, he really is. Martin sends me pictures whenever he can, I really appreciate it. Of course, I try to return the favour and send pictures of the Admiral, too.”

“Oh, that’s Georgie’s cat right? You’ve shown me before.”

“Well, I have joint custody of him actually.”

Sasha laughs. “And now you want another child, you’re such a good cat-parent, huh?”

“Hm, well I certainly try to be. A-actually, there’s this upcoming cat show I wanted to attend. A few special booths with really good toys and food are coming and you can’t get those in stores, only online for outrageous shipping prices, so I wanted to go and get them physically but…”

This time Tim gets tired of being excluded from their lovely little cat-chat, and decides to join.

“But, what?”

  
Jon glances at his phone, “Well, I didn’t want to go alone and also… Well, Martin is sort of the expert right? But I can’t figure out how to ask him to go along. It’d be weird to go with me, wouldn’t it?”

Tim places a hand on his shoulder and givesJon a serious look. “Look, Jon. If you want to ask Martin on a date, there’s better places to go than a cat show to pick up stuff for the cat you’re adopting.”

Jon swatts Tim’s hand away in annoyance, “I’m not asking him on a date, Tim. I want his input for the things I’m buying. Besides, I’ll be paying for the entrance for us both and it’s a sort of thing he’d like to attend as well right?”

“If you’ve given it so much thought, just ask if he wants to come,” Sasha says. She is tugging Tim away from Jon and Tim comes along with a small huff.

“Text him now, you know he’ll answer right away.”

Jon gulps, but picks up his phone. He swiftly types away, sends the message, then promptly lays the phone away, face down. 

“But what if I’m overstepping my boundaries? What if he thinks it’s annoying, a-and tells me to keep it professional?”

“Professional? Jon, he’s texting you about the movie he’s-” Sasha is interrupted by the soft buzz of the phone that makes the entire table vibrate. Jon immediately picks it up to check.

“Well?” Tim asks.

“He-he says he’d love to go. He had actually wanted to attend too, but didn’t want to go by himself and Daisy always refuses, so-so… Yeah, we’re going now.”

“Oh, that’s good to hear! I hope it’s a great time, then,” Sasha says.

Tim sighs but smiles “Yeah bring us home a kitty souvenir from your cat-date.”

“Shut up, Tim,” Jon picks up his glass and drinks and the evening continues on, with Jon’s mood being just a little better and the weekend with the show just a few days away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No art this time lol, I had to split some events happening to next chapter where I had planned some art!


	4. Bonding over cats (as you do)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go a cat show. There's cats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cat show is entirely inspired by such a show that my dad took me to when I was younger. It was magical. I bought a set of cat themed playing cards.  
> Once again, the worlds biggest shout out to Chao for being my beta and doing this even though she's very busy. Love you lots.

The weather on Saturday is great, the public transport somehow miraculously on time and the weird knot in Martin’s stomach that had settled there ever since Jon suggested they both go to the cat show, together, both of them, on purpose, is also present.  _ Wonderful. _

Despite being early, Martin still picks up the pace a little once he’s out of the train. He had wanted to make sure he was at least ten minutes early on their agreed upon time, so he had some time to be absolutely sure everything was in order.

Phone, check (Jon was on his way, too, according to his last text). Wallet, check. Tote bag with bad cat poetry on it, just for the occasion, check.

Martin doesn’t even know why he is so fussy over this trip anyways. He has been reasoning with himself all day that he was just excited to go and nervous about the trip. He didn’t usually go to this area, so he was unsure of the way. And yet, none of what he told himself seemed to actually help his situation at all. Incredibly annoying. He blows a stray curl out of his face, because of course his hair isn’t cooperating either. Not that he cares.

When the venue comes into view, he spots Jon by the entrance, face turned to his phone, brows furrowed. Martin picks up the pace again and half jogs over to Jon, so much for being early.

“Hey,” Martin gently nudges Jon with his elbow to get his attention. Jon almost drops his phone in surprise, and Martin chuckles at the sight.

“Martin! Hello, s-sorry I just, I wanted to be sure about ticket prices and who the vendors were, y’know, so I just double checked-”

“More like triple checked, Jon we’ve gone over the details multiple times now, how can you possibly still be unsure?” Martin teases with another elbow nudge and Jon steps a little to the side with an offended scoff.

“The info could have changed since last time, th-they could have updated something!” he defends himself, earning another chuckle from Martin.

“Sure, let’s just go, Jon.” He turns towards the doors and Jon follows without another comment.

Like promised, Jon pays for both tickets, wordlessly handing Martin his own before entering the main hall. It’s already busy, the main show still a few hours away, but the cats and vendors are already up for view and purchasing, and people are quickly filling up the space.

Martin looks towards the cat exhibition part and Jon follows his gaze.

“Do you um, do you want to go look at the cats first?” He asks with a nod towards the area.

“Oh, actually, yes? If that’s okay? I just, I feel like it would be a shame, ifwe came all this way and then to not also see the cats,” he rubs nervously at his neck, but Jon just nods and heads towards the cats in question.

As it turns out, Martin is full of facts about cats. The breeds and their standards, their history, famous cats from all over the world, his own opinions about breeds and how people treat them. He’s in the middle of an especially long rant over Persians and their scrunched up little faces (prompted by a particularly offending cat at the show), when he catches Jon staring at him.

When Jon notices that Martin has stopped talking, he wrinkles his nose in confusion. “Why’d you stop? That was interesting.”

Martin can feel a blush creeping up his neck, and he sheepishly rubs at it. “It’s… It’s just, you were um, you were kinda staring at me without blinking for several minutes.”

Jon then blinks owlishly. “Oh,” he says and blinks a little more. “Sorry, I er, I tend to do that when I’m very focused,” he looks away. “Please continue talking though.”

Martin, feeling very pleased with this fact, continues his rant on the poor cat’s faces. They walk around for some time, just admiring the different cats (Jon in particular being enamored by a very lovely Russian blue, Martin cooing over a collection of Ragdoll kittens). 

At one point, they take a break at the cafeteria in the building to get lunch, Jon again insisting on paying and Martin only letting him after a short lived fight.

“I didn’t even realise we’d spent so long just looking at cats,” Martin says through a mouthful of chips.

“Well, it turned out to be more fascinating than I thought, and,” Jon takes a sip of his water, “I knew you had a lot of cat knowledge, but I didn’t know it was quite this extensive.”

Martin laughs at this, “Jon, I literally work at a cat shelter. It’s my _ job  _ to know.”

“Still, I work in a bookstore and it’s not like I know every single book in the world, like you seem to know about every single cat breed.”

“Hmm, I suppose that’s true. Maybe I just am that amazing, then.”

Jon snorts and Martin finishes another chip with a satisfied grin. It’s so easy to get those little reactions out of Jon, and Martin relishes every time he does it. It makes the odd little knot in his stomach twist funnily.

“How long have you even been working at the store, actually? I distinctly remember an older woman being there some time back when I first found it and I don’t recall seeing you back then.”

Jon sets his cup down. “That was probably Gertrude. She had the job before me. I’ve been there for two years now, the entire staff was changed at the same time for some reason, so now it’s me, Sasha, and Tim. Oh, and Gerry and Michael, but they only work on sundays when we’re off, so we don’t actually interact much.”

Martin hums in response, he remembers a guy who must be Tim helping him placing his order and picking up the first poetry book, but he has no clue who the others are.  _ Maybe Jon will introduce them all, at one point _ , he thinks.

Jon looks at his wrist watch. “We should head back in.”

Martin nods, quickly gulps down the last of his water and gathers his things.

Back inside the main hall, Jon steers them towards the vendors area. He has his phone out with the list of shops and items he’s specifically looking for, and Martin can’t help but think it’s frankly adorable how serious he looks about this entire thing.

Most of the vendors are happy to assist and Martin finds that he isn’t actually doing much in the sense of assisting Jon in finding and picking things at all. Jon has done his research insanely well and he only asks a few clarifying questions about ingredients or materials, before deciding on each individual item. 

Every so often, Jon will hold up two similar items and ask which Martin thinks Mr Crinkles would prefer, and Martin tries his best to tell Jon every time that Mr Crinkles probably doesn’t care if his food bowl is purple or green, or if that particular mouse toy has red eyes or black eyes.

Eventually, they find themselves at the final booth, bags filled to the brim with assorted things. Jon is buying something from an older lady who has been trying to sign them both up for her mailing list, and after politely declining for the fifth time, Jon turns around and motions for them to leave.

Martin follows happily, tired to his bones. The trip has ended up being several hours longer than he expected it to be, he can feel his energy being almost depleted at this point and is grateful they’re finally done, even though he’s had a wonderful time.

Before they leave, Jon thrusts out his hand and deposits something in Martin’s right hand. 

“This is, um, this is for you. As a small thank you for accompanying me today.” He’s not looking at Martin, but just awkwardly shuffling his bags around in his grasp.

Martin looks down at his hand and finds that Jon has placed a bright pink badge with the text “you must be kitten” next to what appears to be a mug that has spilled all its contents on the table it’s lying on.

He gapes a little and looks up at Jon, who now seems to be having a staring contest with his shoes.

“Y-you didn’t have to, Jon. Thank you, though. It’s really sweet.” He looks at the badge again, smiling down at it.

Jon huffs, “I know but… I remembered that you wore a lot of badges at work, so... Well, thank you, anyways. Come on, let’s go.” Jon turns and heads for the doors leading out of the building.

Martin is still looking at the badge, not really noticing where he’s going and just following Jon. He can feel a goofy grin settle on his face, a rather ridiculous reaction to such a silly little present honestly. The knot twists a little more in his stomach, until he stops in his tracks and realises, that oh, wait. That isn’t a knot. Those are butterflies. 

Oh, no.

Oh god, he has a crush on Jon.

_ Shit. _

\--

Martin manages to go home. He manages to get off at the correct stop, walk up the stairs to his flat, open the door,go inside and take off his shoes and coat.

He realises a good while later that he is just laying on his couch and staring at the ceiling. He forces himself to sit up with a groan and he mentally cards through all his and Jon’s interactions to find out what prompted this. 

  
Sure, Martin always crushed easily. On the nice barista who gave him extra whipped cream and remembered his name and order, on the cute neighbor before he moved simply because he had helped him move a few boxes when he settled in, oh and that time with the lovely guy walking his dog, and, well, it was easy for Martin to fall a little in love with nice people.

But that was the problem, it was usually _ nice people _ . Jon was not a “nice people.” Jon was prickly and sarcastic and awkward as hell. Jon texted Martin at 4 in the night because he was still up for some god forsaken reason and wanted to bother Martin with something, Jon had spilled coffee on him (and apologised) and Jon had in his own way taken the time to get to know Martin.

Martin rubs his eyes with a little more force than necessary. This is so inconvenient. This is highly annoying and super not like him.  _ Well, _ he ponders.  _ Maybe it is like him, to fall for a guy he shouldn’t fall for. _

Martin slumps over on the couch with a heavy sigh. Blindly he reaches for his phone where he left it on the couch table. He opens up the messenger and sends Daisy a text.

**Martin** : help

**Daisy** : What?

**Martin** : i have a problem

**Daisy** : Do you need an alibi or do you need advice?

**Martin** : advice

**Daisy** : I’m going to call you.

His phone immediately buzzes with the incoming call and Martin picks up.

“Tell me.”

Martin sighs again and leans back against the couch, wishing he could become one with it and avoid having feelings. Maybe in his next life he could be a cat, just napping all day and occasionally throwing stuff on the floor.

“Remember Jon?” he asks and hears Daisy hum in affirmation at the other end.

“Yeah so, I’ve definitely got a crush on him now.”

Daisy snorts and Martin makes a displeased little grunt, knowing this would come.

“I can’t believe it took you this long to figure out. Honestly Martin, you’ve had it bad for him almost from the start.”

Martin gasps at the accusation, “I have not! I resented the man!”

“Oh sure, you did, and then he gave you that hideous-”

“She is not hideous, she is beautiful and-”

“Stop interrupting me, and then he gave you that hideous little cat figure and you’ve been gone ever since. It’s been a joy to watch unfold, I’m just glad you’ve finally caught on.”

“Look, are you going to help me sort this out or just make fun of me all evening? Because I have better things to do.”

“Do you? Like what, write Jon a love poem?”

Martin lets out an outraged scoff for dramatic effect, “you’re just jealous because your own girlfriend said my poems were ‘cute’ and that anyone who would give their partner such a thing was a ‘sweetheart’. Maybe  _ you _ ought to write  _ her _ a poem, hm?”

“I can and I will hang up,” Daisy says flatly.

“Don’t, please, just either kill me now and get it over with, or help me.”

“Okay, listen, maybe you just need to take some time to consider what you really feel. You’ve gotten over short lived crushes before, but if you want more out of this, think about asking Jon out on an actual date.”

Martin rolls over on his stomach and buries his face in a pillow. “I don’t know if I can, Daisy. I didn’t even have the courage to ask if he wanted to go to the show today, even though I knew it was coming up. In the end I was just lucky he had the same idea.”

“Well, you better do something soon, before he takes away your cat and never speaks to you ever again, huh.”

  
Martin sat up abruptly. “He wouldn’t do that, would he? Cease all communication as soon as he’s adopted Mr Crinkles? But, I mean… that has been why we’re texting, so… Oh who am I kidding, I need to get over him as soon as possible. This is so stupid,” he rubs at his temple with a sigh.

“Stop spiraling Martin, maybe ask Jon before you jump to any conclusions. I was kidding.”

“Mm, yeah. Okay, I need to stew in the shower for some time I think, thanks for this Daisy, I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Sure, see you.” 

The call ends with a soft little beep, and Martin sinks a little further into the couch. Maybe Jon really just texted Martin because he is the person Jon is adopting a cat through. Martin doesn’t even know if Jon is into men at all! He hadn’t thought to ask and now the idea of asking him is too terrifying.

With a final sigh, Martin wills himself off the couch and drags his feet to the bathroom to take a very, very long shower.

\--

The days come and go. Jon is sending updates on the setup at his flat for Mr Crinkles, coming in to see him and Martin at the shelter, sending Martin texts and calling him, generally just being his usual self, and Martin found himself struggling a little harder every day to come up with excuses as to why everything is completely fine and okay.

Finally, in the middle of a visit to Mr Crinkles, Martin gives up.

“So, when do you think you can take him home?”

Jon’s head snaps up immediately, hand still where it was just petting Mr Crinkles, who gives an offended little squeak.

“Really?” He asks quietly, like he’s afraid Martin is joking.

“I think I’ve dragged this on long enough, he clearly loves you and you’ve done so much work with getting all the right things, so I have to accept that you’re clear to take him home now.”

Jon stands and looks at Martin in disbelief that he is actually taking home the cat, and that Martin wasn’t just pulling a several month long prank on him.

“T-tomorrow. I can come in tomorrow after work with a carrier and take him home. If-if that’s okay,” Jon manages.

Martin smiles. “Of course Jon, that sounds good. I’ll have the papers ready for you tomorrow then. I know he’ll be happy with you.”

Jon straight up beams at Martin, and Martin’s breath catches in his throat.  _ Godammit _ . 

“I’ll leave now then, I want to make sure everything is in order for tomorrow. I know I’ve set most things up but, you know, I-I want to be completely sure I didn’t miss anything and-”

Martin laughs and Jon immediately shuts his mouth. “I know, Jon. I know you. I’ll see you tomorrow and I’ll make sure to include some of his favourite treats.”

“Thank you Martin, really.” 

“Of course.”

Jon practically bounces out of the door to sprint home and Martin can’t help but think he’s actually made the right choice for Mr Crinkles.

\--

The hand off the next day is very unceremonial. Jon had half expected it to be more serious and longer, seeing as he’s been coming here several days a week for several months now, but in the end he just signs the papers, gently carts Mr Crinkles into the carrier (with his favourite blanket and treats) and then he’s home, setting down the carrier as softly as he can and opening the little hatch.

Mr Crinkles firmly stays put, refusing to acknowledge Jon and his outstretched hand. It takes the greater part of the evening before he even dares come up, but when he does, he immediately finds a discarded box, and makes himself comfortable in it.

Jon coos and quickly snaps a few pictures, sending them off to Martin with the text “he’s settling in well.”

Martin sends a bunch of heart emojis in return and Jon chuckles at this. He turns off the screen and puts away the phone, determined to make his new cat feel as welcome as possible, even though he knows it’ll probably take a while before he’s completely at home here.

Jon crouches by the box and reaches out a hand to Mr Crinkles, who sniffs it and bumps his little forehead against it. 

“Welcome home,” he says softly. Mr Crinkles blinks slowly at Jon, then yawns and settles down a little further into the box. Jon smiles and runs his hand over his back, getting a tired little mow in return.

He gets up again and decides to send the pictures to Georgie as well. She responds immediately with a picture of The Admiral, who is busy eating what looks like a very large, partially devoured, shrimp. 

**Cat Queen** : WHEN can I come and see him!!   
**Jonathan Stims** : As soon as he’s settled in. Probably in two weeks.

**Cat Queen** : you two really are a good match   
**Jonathan Stims** : What do you mean?   
**Cat Queen** : Have you SEEN him? He looks like a cat version of you!!   
**Cat Queen** : Did you send Martin an update on him yet?   
**Jonathan Stims** : Of course, soon as he was out.

**Cat Queen** : Good! Now when are you asking him on another date?? The other one went so well!   
  


Jon blinks at the message. What date? Wait, was she implying that he and Martin went on… dates? Together?

**Jonathan Stims** : What are you talking about?   
**Cat Queen** : Jon… Sweetie… You are aware of your massive crush on Martin, right? Him and the cat are literally the only thing you talk about now.

**Jonathan Stims** : Ha ha. What.

**Cat Queen** : Oh my god. Just wait until I tell Mels about how much of an oblivious fool you are again.

**Jonathan Stims** : Please don’t involve your girlfriend in this, I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Because he doesn’t, right? He just really enjoys Martin’s company and he likes texting Martin because he has fun things to say and is good at keeping a conversation going. So maybe Jon was a little worried about Martin not wanting to keep talking after he had taken home Mr Crinkles, but he clearly did, because he did respond right away so…

Jon looks a little more intently at the screen. Did Martin even want to go on dates with him? Wasn’t he just interested in talking to him because he was adopting Mr Crinkles? 

With a frustrated groan, Jon drags his free hand over his face and ungracefully plops down on his couch. Did he get more than what he bargained for when all he wanted was to adopt a cat?

He looks over at Mr Crinkles, who is sleeping soundly in his little box. 

“I’m overthinking it,” he mumbles. “I’m just tired and overthinking things. Tomorrow is going to be perfectly normal.”

He goes to bed, thinking very hard about how tomorrow and every day onwards is going to be completely normal and about how absolutely nothing has changed. Probably. Hopefully.  _ Right. _

_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do people put memes in their fics?? idk I do that now.


	5. Get your act together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more realisations are had. They're getting there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really desperately trying to finish this fic before school starts up, because I'm pretty sure I'm going to disappear off the internet for a good while as soon as it does.  
> As always, huge thank you to Chao for being my beta and being the best person in the universe.

It’s been roughly five and a half days since Jon has had his “much needed emotional breakdown”, as Tim called it, but now even Tim has to admit it’s getting tiresome. All Jon does now is mope, sigh, look at his phone and out the window, and then sigh some more, as if the more he sighs the better the situation will get. Which, by the way, it doesn’t.

So on the five and a half day mark, Tim decides to stage an intervention. 

“Tim, Tim you can’t just do that.” Sasha is walking briskly beside Tim, who with his longer legs is quickly getting away from her and she has to up her pace. “You know how delicate his emotional state is, what if you make it worse?”

Tim doesn’t slow down. “And what if I make it better? Listen, Sash, we’ve had to deal with this emotionally constipated dumbass for years now, and I’m not letting him sabotage himself just because he’s having a minor crisis.”

Sasha sighs and clenches her teeth. She knows Tim is right, she’s just a little worried about Jon. But maybe this is what he needs, for someone to tell him to do something or he’ll end up losing… whatever it is he has with Martin, just because he doesn’t have the courage to do it himself.

Tim opens the door to the backroom with a loud bang, startling Jon who was “on his break” (actually secretly doing work).

“Wh-what is it? Is something wrong? Did anything happen?” Jon peers out behind Tim into the store. Sasha shakes her head at him and he looks at them with a puzzled expression.

“When are you asking Martin on a date?” Tim asks, arms crossed, expression very serious. Well, as serious as he can muster given the circumstances.

Jon stares at Tim. Jon blinks, opens his mouth helplessly, then looks back at Sasha for help, but when she pointedly looks away, Jon looks back at Tim who is still sort of patiently waiting for an answer to this attack.

“I-I, well I, you know-” Jon stammers out, then shuts his mouth and stands up, meeting Tim’s gaze with what he hopes seems authoritative.

“I don’t know what you’re-” he doesn’t get further before Tim strides over with two steps and takes hold of his shoulders, Jon’s words dying in his mouth.

“Listen, mate, it’s cute and all that you’ve been keeping up this oblivious act, but if I have to see you look at your screen one more time with that painfully dreamy look on your face, I might combust.”

Jon’s mouth screws into a tight line of discomfort, but Tim barrels over him.

“For your own sake, but honestly also for Martin’s at this point, maybe actually consider it?.” Tim releases his hold on Jon’s shoulders and he staggers backwards.

“Now, me and Sasha are going out to get bubble tea while you close up shop and think things over. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but I think it’d be good for you.”

Tim shoots Jon a reassuring glance, and Jon huffs in defeat. 

“Okay, enough with the attacks on Jon, he has enough to think about now I’d say,” Sasha gently tugs at Tim’s wrist, “come on, let’s go on our own date, I’ve been looking forward to it.”

With that, Tim and Sasha turn to leave the store, Jon still staring after them in the backroom. 

“Wait-” his thoughts finally start working again and he chases them before they can leave the store completely, “you guys are dating? Since when?”

But Sasha just laughs and opens the door, while Tim finger guns in his direction, giving him absolutely no answers whatsoever. 

“You’ve got one day boss!” Tim gives him a final grin, then slams the door.

Jon decides to close early.

Mind racing, he goes through the motion of the closing procedures. Taking in signs, turning off lights, counting the register and putting things in order. He’s done these things so many times he could do them in his sleep, and it’s only when he’s locked the door and is now standing aimlessly in front of the store that he realises he does actually want to ask Martin out.

The realisation slams into him and he struggles to breathe for a good few seconds, before his legs automatically take him in the direction of the shelter where Martin works. He near sprints the entire way, and when he reaches his destination, he’s out of breath and he knows he looks ridiculous.

He opens the door to the shelter with more dramatic flair than he intended and from inside the room, Daisy’s head snaps up in his direction.

“Er,” Jon begins intelligently. “I, um… Is Martin in?” He can feel his resolve leaving him like air from a popped balloon and he suddenly feels very stupid and small.  _ Why am I like this _ , he thinks helplessly to himself. 

Daisy gives him a lazy, sharp toothed grin, like she knows all the secrets about him. He squirms a little. What has Martin actually told her about him? Oh god.

“No,” she simply says. “He’s out on an errand. He won’t be back in today.”

Jon deflates completely. “Oh”.

“Why? Did you need him for something?”

His eyes dart around the room, searching for an excuse that isn’t just ‘yes I’d like to ask him on a date and didn’t think before rushing here’, but he doesn’t find anything that could help him, so instead he just looks at the floor and mutters out a vague “yes” sounding word.

Daisy is now leaning her entire body on the counter, clearly pleased by his situation. “With what? Maybe I could help? We do both work here, you know.”

“N-no, no it’s ah, well, I just had a question for Martin, that’s all,” Jon tugs absently at his sleeve.

“Oh and you couldn’t just text him? Like you always seem to do?”

Jon’s face reddens many shades and he busies himself further with fiddling with the poor sleeve. “W-well, it’s just… It seemed better to… To ask him in person.”

Daisy’s entire body language screams delighted predator, and Jon knows she’s got him figured out. He finally lets go of his sleeve with a small sigh.

“I must say, I’m glad you’ve finally decided to do something about this entire thing,” Daisy says pleasantly. “If I have to hear one more wistful sight out of that boy's mouth, I think I’m going to strangle you. Good on you for finally working up the courage to ask him out.”

Jon splutters, “I-I didn’t say I was going to ask him out!” Daisy raises an eyebrow at him and he shuts his mouth.

“Okay so, I-I am. Going to ask him out, that is, please Daisy can you not look at me like I’m a meal, it’s a little unnerving.” 

Daisy cocks her head and her grin widens. “No.”

Jon drags a hand through his hair with a frustrated groan. “Fine. Fine, be like that. I’m just… What if he doesn’t want to? What if I’ve been getting too ahead of myself a-and he’s uninterested?”

Daisy looks entirely unimpressed with him and he gets the hint.

“I’m just nervous,” he mutters.

“Don’t be,” Daisy straightens up and gives him what he thinks is supposed to be a very reassuring look, but on her it just looks scary. “He’ll accept.”

Jon swallows thickly and nods. He pulls himself together a little and tries to stand up straighter, hoping to trick himself into some much needed confidence.

“Okay,” he says resolutely. “I’ll do it.”

“Do what?” comes a voice from behind, making Jon jump and spin in place to face whoever is behind him. 

It’s Martin. Who is back early from his errand, apparently. Clearly. Since he’s here.

Terror takes Jon’s mind and he can feel his brain switch over to autopilot, making words fall out of his mouth without his permission or thought.

“Ask you out. On a date. With me. Preferably this weekend before I go crazy thinking about it.”

Jon is rooted to the ground. He registers the words leaving his mouth and he knows their meaning, but his soul is also slowly leaving his body, giving him a very intense out of body experience.  _ Oh my god _ , is all he can think.

In front of him, Martin is looking redder and redder by the second. When he reaches peak redness, he must register that Jon has actually posed a question and probably expects an answer to it, because he opens his mouth. Not like any words come out, but it’s a start.

Jon’s soul finally decides to come back down and participate, and he snaps into terrifying consciousness. 

“O-of course only if you want to! No pressure or anything, j-just, whenever you can or would want to, and um, well if you don’t want to that’s fine too, I just-” without autopilot, the words spill out of Jon, who is both trying to backtrack and move forward. It’s incredibly clumsy.

Martin interrupts with all the grace of someone falling over themself, “of course!” 

Jon slams his mouth shut and stares at Martin with huge unbelieving eyes.

“I’d love to. T-to go on a date. With you. This weekend.” Martin isn’t meeting Jon’s gaze and is instead intently staring at his shoes. He can’t fight the smile creeping onto his face though.

“Okay,” Jon squeaks. 

Martin finally looks up and gives Jon a very big smile that just about makes Jon fall over. 

Jon clears his throat. “Yeah, okay. I’ll… I’ll text you so we can plan it out?”

“That sounds good, Jon. I’m looking forward to it.”

Jon’s head is spinning, he knows that he nods at Martin’s words but he’s also floating so far away now that he’s not entirely sure what’s happening.

He knows he awkwardly says goodbye to Martin with another promise to text him and he knows that Martin had looked at him like he had just offered him the world, further making Jon’s existence blur at the edges and spin out of control.

He knows he makes his way home and he sort of registers Mr Crinkles giving him a throaty meow as hello. 

It isn’t until he sits himself on his couch, Mr Crinkles in his lap, that his actions finally catch up with him. His face turns hot and red, and he buries his head in the cat’s fur and lets out a long, happy, whine.

\--

The next day, a mere second after waking up, the panic sets in.

Jon lays in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to move. He’s been trying to argue with his body that he does actually need to get up, to get ready and get to work, but his body seems to have decided not to listen and he is now just laying there. Staring.

If it wasn’t for the continuous purr of Mr Crinkles next to him, he might think that time has stopped. Finally, and with great trouble, Jon rolls over and places a hand on Mr Crinkles’ little head. He gets a purry mow in return and the cat squints up at Jon.

“What have I done?” He asks the cat, who gives a slow blink in response. “I don’t know how to act on dates. I-I just… I want it to be fun and enjoyable, but the more I think about it, the more this feels like a terrible idea,” he scratches Mr Crinkles behind the ears and the purring continues.

Jon buries his face in his pillow and lets out a long, agonising sigh. Finally, he gets up and out of bed and drags himself to the bathroom to get his morning routine going.

He ends up texting Georgie on his commute to work, desperately pleading for assistance. She only teases him gently, and invites him over for dinner this evening so they can figure something out together.

As soon as Tim arrives at work, he knows something is up. It might be the fact that Jon has yet to grumble at him or give out orders to him or Sasha, or it might be that he isn’t glued to his phone, chatting away with Martin.

Whatever it is, it catches Tim’s attention and after a couple of slow hours with a barely present Jon, he decides to ask.

“Hey Jon,” he knocks at the door frame to get Jon’s attention and the man slowly looks up from the books he’s been sorting. Jon doesn’t even answer, he just looks at Tim like he’s only now noticed him.

“So, er,” Tim rubs at his neck and gestures vaguely in Jon’s direction, “is everything y’know, okay?”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?” Jon answers.

Tim shrugs. “It’s just… you’ve been acting a little  _ strange  _ this morning. Anything happened?”

At this, Jon ducks his head and colour flushes his cheeks. He returns his focus to the books in front of him and starts sorting again.

“Well... “ Jon shoots a glance in Tim’s direction and Tim gives him a ‘go on’ look.

“After what you said yesterday I might have… possibly, actually… Asked Martin out.” His hands are still on the books, and while all pretense of sorting dropped, Jon’s gaze is lowered, too afraid to gauge Tim’s reaction. He knows there will be teasing, and he silently hopes Tim doesn’t drag Sasha into it as well.

When there’s no outburst or sudden movement from Tim, Jon dares to look up again. He finds Tim with a giant grin plastered on his face and Jon blushes even further.

“Wh-what? Is that so unbelievable?”

“No! No, Jon I’m just… Wow, I can’t believe you actually did it. Damn, okay. You actually went and did it! So, when’s the date? Where are you going?”

Jon shifts his position and turns fully towards Tim now, “ah, this weekend. We haven’t gotten the details down yet, it all happened, um, rather fast yesterday, but I told him I’d text him so we could plan.”

Tim hums in response. “Look at you go, planning dates, being romantic. I’m proud of you,” he teases.

Jon gasps mockingly and turns back to the books, “I’ve always been capable of going on dates, I just didn’t have anyone worthy of taking before.”

Tim laughs at this and shakes his head. “Sure boss, sure thing. Listen, if you need any help, don’t hesitate to call or text me, right?”

“Thanks Tim,” Jon smiles, and some of the nervous knots in his stomach loosen a little.

\--

After work, Jon makes his way to Georgie’s. It’s thankfully a route he knows by heart now and he arrives with a decent enough bottle of wine. He’s barely knocked on the door before it flies open and Georgie all but drags him into her home.

“I didn’t know you were  _ that  _ eager to see me,” he says dryly as he toes off his shoes.

“Oh, no, I’m only happy because you’ve brought wine,” she sticks out her tongue at him.

He chuckles, shrugs off his coat and makes his way into the apartment. He’s greeted by The Admiral, who happily rubs on his legs. Jon leans down, scoops him up and gets a face full of purring cat.

“I’ve missed you too,” he rubs the cat behind the ears and Georgie quickly snaps a few pictures of the scene. Jon shoots her an unimpressed look and she just laughs at him.

“Don’t worry, I won’t show anyone. Besides Melanie.” She winks as she sets down two glasses by the couch for the wine. “Okay loverboy, come over, we have planning to do.”

Jon snorts at the ‘loverboy’. He sets down The Admiral again, who leaps up onto the couch to snuggle besides Georgie’s leg. Jon sits down next to her and reaches for his glass as soon as Georgie has filled it.

“So,” she turns to him, her own glass of wine in her hand. “What’s the idea? Where did you want to take Martin?”

Jon sighs into his glass and swirls the contents around. “I don’t know Georgie, that’s the entire issue. I haven’t been on a date for so long, I don’t know what to do now. I-I’m afraid I’ll just bore him to tears and he’ll decide to never ever see me again.”

Georgie scrunches up her nose. “He seemed to have enjoyed himself when you went to that cat thing.”

“Yeah but that was unintentional, this, this is with thought put into it, and you  _ know _ how bad things can go when I’m the one who has to plan.”

“Seems like you should stop thinking too hard about it then, and just go,” she says wisely, and Jon rolls his eyes at her and sinks a little further into the soft couch.

Georgie smiles at the pathetic scene in front of her and pulls out her phone. “Here, you dumbass, I’ve been researching good date spots for you and there seems to be some promising places nearby.”

Jon scoots closer so he can look at her phone screen, and she flicks through the various bookmarks she’s saved.

“This café recently opened and has great reviews. It’s a little more hidden away, see just right there, so it isn’t too busy,” she says and Jon nods and saves the address to his own phone.

“Oh, here’s a list of events happening around town, let me send it to you.”

They spend the evening looking over and discussing appropriate places, only interrupted by Jon pausing to take pictures of The Admiral being particularly cute and sending them to Martin, who in return sends a gif of a man having a heart attack.

The bottle of wine is slowly emptied, and after a few hours and a bowl of popcorn, they’ve narrowed it down to a pop up art gallery, or a free flower event a little further out of town. 

Jon stares at his phone, fingers hovering over the keyboard. “Georgie,” he says, voice cracking. “How do I actually ask him? It’s just to ask which place he’d prefer, but…. It makes it feel so real.”

Georgie puts a reassuring hand on his leg and gives him a soft smile. “I know. Just do it, he’s already agreed to it.”

Jon nods and takes in a stuttering breath, then types the message and hits send. He doesn’t even have time to get second thoughts before Martin’s reply arrives.

**Martin** : an art gallery sounds great!!

**Martin** : I’d love to do that.

**Martin** : also, say hi to Georgie from me!

Jon chuckles. “He says hi,” he tells her softly, quickly typing a response back.

**Jon** : Good! I thought we could go to a café afterwards then?   
**Martin** : that sounds like a great idea.

**Martin** : Saturday? At 12?

**Jon** : Yeah, that’s perfect.

**Martin** : Great!!

**Martin** : I can’t wait :)

Jon knows he’s looking ridiculous right now. He can feel his face burning and his mouth betraying him with a huge smile, but he can’t really find it in him to care. They’re going on a date. On an actual date. And he’s excited.

\--

Martin has been staring at his phone for a good ten minutes now. It’s slowly sinking that yes, he and Jon are actually going on a date, that Jon did in fact ask him out, Jon apparently also likes him and his crush on Jon isn’t stupid. Then it hits him, that they’re going on a  _ date _ . Which means he needs to pick an outfit and be prepared, and think of fun and interesting things to talk about, not just… cats. And whatever other stupid conversations they’ve had before this.

He nearly panics, but manages to still himself enough to text Daisy.

**Martin** : help, again.

**Daisy** : Is this about the date?   
**Martin** : no I’ve murdered someone and I need to hide the body. Of course it’s about the date.

Predictably, his screen shows Daisy calling him. He quickly taps the green button and puts the phone up to his ear.

“Alright, why are we panicking tonight.” It’s not even formed as a question and Martin huffs at the phone.

“I don’t know what to do! I need to pick a good outfit, I-I need to behave and be fun, and I need to keep a good conversation and not make him lose interest, and, Daisy, what if he gets  _ bored _ ?”

He’s moved to his kitchen and starts to fill up his kettle, because if anything can help right now, it’s a cup of tea. With a bit of maneuvering the phone around so it’s caught between his shoulder and head, he manages to grab a mug and a tea bag.

“Why are you worried? Have you not been texting and keeping conversation for several months now?” Daisy doesn’t sound worried. She sounds like this is very bothersome and he is being ridiculous.

Martin lets out a small whine. “But that’s over the phone! That’s different!”

“You’ve been talking face to face too, you know,” Daisy points out and Martin knows she’s right.

“Also,” she continues, “this is the guy who spilled coffee all over you and has mostly seen you wear your work apron. I think he’ll be impressed with anything.”

The kettle shrieks and Martin quickly takes it off and pours the hot water in his mug. “You’re right,” he says. “Oh my god Daisy, you’re so right.”

He can hear her grin when she speaks “Of course I am, I’m great at giving advice.” Martin can hear an audible snort coming from somewhere on Daisy’s end, and he knows immediately it’s Daisy’s girlfriend, Basira, who has taken offence at that comment.

“Tell Basira hi from me,” he chuckles, feeling loads better already. Daisy grunts a response, probably busy trying to keep Basira away from her phone so she can make her own comment.

“Thanks for the help Daisy, it really helped. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Sure. Talk to you later,” she says and the line goes dead. Martin finishes up his tea and takes it back to the living room, content with just being excited for saturday instead of stressed. He settles down, turns on the tv to some random channel and a second later he’s got a text from Jon.

It’s a picture of him holding The Admiral, face half buried in the very soft looking fur.

**Jon** : Georgie took this picture earlier and insisted I sent it to you.

**Martin** : Oh my god, Jon. I love The Admiral so much.

**Jon** : He is a very lovable cat.

**Martin** : I’d love to meet him one day :)

**Jon** : Don’t worry, I think Georgie is forcing you to.

Martin buries his face in his hands. He can’t contain it much longer. He’s so excited for their date and he can’t wait to actually be romantic with Jon, however much he can get away with.

He barely sleeps that night. Saturday is two days away and he barely registers time passing.


	6. It's the Date™

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go on a Date™.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'd like to thank Chao for being a saint and being my beta, love you lots.   
> School starts in under two weeks and I can't promise I'll be done, but we'll see how it goes. I won't force writing this, hope y'all will understand!

The day of the date arrives and Martin wakes up at what could be described as an ungodly hour, solely because of nerves.

After a shower, a frankly disturbing amount of tea and a few hours to sit in his living room simply staring out into thin air, Martin eventually decides it’s time to get ready for real.

He’s picked the outfit the day before (with minimal help from Daisy, whose only contribution to the entire outfit picking thing was ‘just put something on’) and now he is nervously trying to smooth down the fabric of his shirt, even though he knows it’s not going to help.

With an hour to go and his heart taken permanent residence in his throat, Martin gives up on checking himself in the mirror every five minutes and resigns himself to leaving a little early. Maybe this time he’ll be the first one there, and wouldn’t that be nice.

They’ve decided to meet in front of the bookstore, as it’s fairly close to the venue with the art gallery and Jon needed to drop off a few documents anyways. Martin smiles at the memory of Jon complaining over Tim and Sasha forcing him to take the day off, because they “just want him and Martin to have a nice time”. Martin doesn’t really know how much Jon has told them about, well, this and them, but it seems to be enough for them to care.

Double checking his pockets (even though he’s already checked several times today already), he deems himself ready to go and leaves his apartment to get going.

As expected, he is way too early before their agreed upon time, but the store is open and he doesn’t mind waiting around. He pushes open the door and is greeted with Jon already there, gesturing wildly with his back turned. He’s talking to Tim about something, and Tim appears to be enjoying the conversation immensely. 

As soon as the door closes behind Martin, Tim breaks into a lazy smile at him. He nudges Jon with an elbow and nods in Martin’s direction, making Jon stop the gesturing with a hand still dramatically up in the air. He turns, and by the sight of Martin, he immediately clutches his arm to his chest, like he’s been caught doing something embarrassing. His face flushes several shades, and he seems to be trying to say something.

It’s entirely too cute and Martin cannot help the soft sigh that leaves him at the sight.

“I thought I was too early, but it appears you’ve beaten me again huh?” Martin makes his way over to where Jon and Tim are standing.

  
  


“Yes, well, I did say I wanted to drop off some things before things before our-, the-, well, th-the d-date,” Jon fumbles his way through the sentence and Martin can feel all rational thought disappearing from his mind like mist on a sunny day. _ Oh my god. _

Tim grins. “Isn’t he just the best? Making sure we have everything we need even though he isn’t working? Y’know, Gertrude never cared this much about her coworkers at all,” he winks at Jon, who gives him an over exaggerated eye roll.

“Oh, she had Jon’s position before, right?” Martin chimes in, happy to know at least a little about this topic.

Tim nods. “Yeah, before she died.” He puts a hand over his heart and closes his eyes in mock sadness and Jon slaps his shoulder.

“She didn’t die, Tim. She’s just, as you put it so eloquently, ‘dead to us’.” Jon turns towards Martin, who’s honestly just amused by this banter that seems to come so easily between them. “Gertrude quit some years ago because Leitner offered a position - and a considerable pay raise - where she could do just about whatever she wanted. Honestly, I think Elias is glad to be rid of her and her tendency to start fires,” Jon huffs.

Martin stifles a laugh, “I’m sorry, she set things on fire in the store?”

“Well, not _ in the store _ per say, but very, very close to. Also I think she might have scorched a bit of the backroom a little? Anyways, she’s over at Leitner’s now and he’s too afraid to do anything about her, she’s sort of imposing,” Tim explains, voice deadpan.

From behind a shelf, Sasha walks out with a box in her hands. “Are you doing dramatic retellings of Gertrude? You know she has a sixth sense about that right, you’ll just make her appear,” she bumps her hip against Tim’s playfully and he grabs the box from her.

“Oh no, whatever shall we do if we summon the Gertrude!” They both laugh at that, and even Jon can’t help but smile as well. Martin dares a glance down at him, and he melts a little at how soft and happy Jon’s expression is.

“Anyways,” Sasha interrupts Martin’s train of thought, “you two should get going, Tim and I have a handle on it here. Have fun you two!” She gives them a wink and then disappears behind some more shelves.

Jon stiffens besides Martin. “R-right. Yes, we um, we should get going. Martin?” He looks up at Martin with those lovely dark eyes, and Martin has to look away before he says something stupid.

“Y-yeah, let’s get going,” he manages to say. He opens the door for Jon, who seems entirely befuddled that someone is doing that for him. He eventually scrambles and gets outside, and Martin closes the door with a slight chuckle.

Jon takes out his phone to load up the map and after a short break to make sure the gps is sending them in the right direction, they start walking.

None of them speak to each other. Jon buries his head in the phone even though they’re walking in the right direction, and they both resign themselves to apparently walking in silence until they get there. 

Several times along the way, Martin glances over at Jon, but every time he does so it seems like Jon has become just a little bit more one with his phone. Martin desperately wishes he could break this intensely awkward situation, but his nerves tell him to shut up, and so he does.

Eventually, Jon stops dead in his tracks and Martin stumbles to a halt as well. “We’re here,” Jon just mumbles into his phone.

Martin looks at the building they’ve stopped in front of, a few colourful signs indicating that yes, this is in fact the place they were going to. “Oh,” he squeaks.

Jon just nods tersely and heads for the front door, holding it open for Martin this time. Martin blushes at the mirrored gesture, and with a weak “thanks” he enters.

They’re greeted at the front desk by a chipper woman with at least six different hair colours and an outfit to match, who hands them two flyers and gives them a brief explanation of the layout of the place. They both nod, Martin thanks her and then they’re making their way from art piece to art piece.

Jon seems to be studying the accompanying text to each piece with such ferocity Martin thinks he might burn a hole into the wall with this stare. 

_ Say something _ , he thinks.  _ Please just say something about the art, that’s why you’re here. Come on Martin, you can do it. Just start a conversation and maybe this tension will leave. _

He clears his throat in front of what appears to be an abstract door with frankly way too many colours splattered on it, and Jon’s head snaps up in attention.    
“S-so, this piece is pretty interesting, huh? I really like the colour choices,” he tries, weakly, and Jon looks back at the door. His lips are pulled into a straight line and his brows are knit tightly together. 

“Hm,” he says finally. “It sort of gives me a headache to look at.”

“R-right, yeah, you’re right, it’s a little… much.” Martin desperately wants to shake himself, but he just shuts his mouth and follows Jon to the next piece.

The rest of the conversations, if you can even call them that, happen in much the same way. Martin tries to make a statement about whatever they’re looking at, and Jon shoots it down with a short response. By the time they’ve been through the entire gallery, Martin is ready to lock himself in the bathroom forever, his thoughts racing with nervous energy about how to make this date not be terrible.

“Are you coming?” Jon’s question pulls him back to reality, and he hurries after Jon who’s already halfway out the building.

“Y-yeah! Hold on.”

In uncomfortable silence, they make their way down to the café where they’d agreed they would go to after the gallery. Jon’s face is once again down in the phone to make sure they’re heading in the right direction and Martin’s will to exist in this exact moment is slowly disappearing.

They make it to the café, a cozy little spot hidden in a small side street with plants in front, and Martin ends up spending several minutes just looking at the menu in a haze. After ordering, they find their way to a small table in a corner, mostly obscured by a large plant, and Martin thinks that this would be very lovely if not for everything else.

Jon seems to be looking at something out the window, and Martin ends up looking down at the table.

_ This is a disaster _ , Martin thinks helplessly.  _ I’m such a disaster. Why did I think this would go well? I’m not cut out for going on dates. _

A server appears and sets down their orders, a shared pot of earl grey and two slices of cake, and then disappears quickly. Martin fiddles with the fork while Jon pours them both a cup of tea.

“Thanks,” Martin says as he pulls the cup towards himself. The warm feeling of it in his hands comforts him a little, but he knows it’ll never be quite enough to do something about this entire failure of a date. 

He gathers the very last of his courage, and tries again. “S-so,” he starts, “um… Were you thinking about renaming Mr Crinkles? I-I know a lot of people who adopt cats tend to pick new names once they’re home, b-but I guess I never asked you, ha.”  _ Oh fuck that was pathetic _ .

Jon sets down his cup. “No. Well, initially yes, I did mean to, but I guess the name grew on me.”

Martin perks up a little, thankful for anything he can get. “Oh? Well, I’m glad you liked it then.”

Jon nods. “While me and Tim were looking at cats on your site, I noticed that most of the names sound, frankly, really ridiculous. I couldn’t imagine anyone keeping those names for their cats to be honest, but I guess Mr Crinkles isn’t bad.”

Martin folds a little in on himself, his smile fading. “Oh. Well. I’m, uh, I’m actually the one who names all the cats at the shelter.”

Jon looks like someone hit him and looks down at his cup of tea. “Oh.” 

None of them dare to initiate conversation after this spectacular failure, and they both end up eating their cakes in silence.

Just when Martin has accepted total defeat and decided to go home and become one with his bed and never ever speak to Jon again, Jon puts down his cup with so much force that half the contents spill out. He doesn’t seem to care though, and just stares at Martin with such a terrifying gaze that Martin briefly wonders if Jon is going to yell at him.

Instead, Jon reaches over and clutches at Martin’s wrist. “I’m sorry,” he says.

Martin stares at him dumbly at a loss for words.

“Martin, I’m really sorry, I wanted this to be an enjoyable date for both of us, but I’ve been so nervous that instead I’ve been acting like a fool the entire time. You don’t deserve this, you deserve a wonderful day out where you can enjoy yourself and relax, and I have been creating an atmosphere where the exact opposite thing happened.”

He looks down at the table, expression turning a little softer, “I’m really terrible with, well, with  _ feelings _ . Especially around people I really like.”

Martin lets out a shaky breath, “I’m someone you really like?”

Jon turns a wonderful deep shade of tomato, mouth a thin line. He doesn’t remove his hand, though. “Obviously,” he mumbles.

Martin laughs at this and Jon instantly flinches back and goes to remove his hand. Martin doesn’t let him, and instead interlaces their fingers together. 

“I really like you, too, and I’m sorry as well. I let my nerves get the better of me.” He rubs his thumb over Jon’s hand, and Jon just nods, still not meeting Martin’s gaze, but a smile creeping back into his face.

“What do you say we get out of this terrible date we’ve found ourselves on and go back to my place? We can put on a movie, make some popcorn instead and try to salvage this?”

Jon looks up, panic clearly written in his face, and Martin stumbles to correct himself. “J-just to watch a movie! Nothing more, I promise. Oh my god, I should have clarified.”

Martin squeezes Jon hand with his, and Jon visibly deflates a little, shock seeping out of him, and he gives Martin a gentle smile. 

  
“Yeah. That sounds lovely, Martin.”

\--

Martin leads them back to his place, and while there’s a clear lack of words being spoken, it’s far from the awkward silence from before. Jon bumps his shoulder against Martin’s side on the way, and doesn’t remove himself before they’re in front of the apartment and Martin has to fish out his keys and let them in.

Hand on the doorknob, Martin pauses. He looks shyly over at Jon. “It… it’s not much, okay. I didn’t expect to get company over so it isn’t all that tidy. Please ignore the dishes as well, I’ve been meaning to get around to those but-”

Jon stops his apparent rambling with a gentle hand on his arm, and Martin gratefully shuts up. “It’s fine, Martin. Really, I don’t mind,” he gives a reassuring smile. Martin nods, and finally lets them both into the apartment.

It really isn’t much, is Jon’s first reaction. Sparsely decorated, but still very homey. A few pictures, some tacky but well loved throw cushions, a large amount of blankets thrown over both the couch and every available chair, and a few cat related things for decoration. Over by the couch in a little basket sits what appears to be yarn and knitting needles.

Martin hangs up his coat and heads to the small kitchen. “Tea? I know we just had some but I could still go for a cup.”

“Ah, yes please, that’d be lovely.” Jon knows he should probably be more nervous here than he was on the actual date, but after their little heart to heart he feels a lot calmer.  _ It’s just Martin _ , he tells himself.  _ Martin, who you text literally every day, and who sends you bad selfies with cats _ . He smiles a little. He loses his shoes by the entrance and hangs up his own coat before sitting down on the couch in the living room.

“Do you have anything in mind you want to watch?” Martin calls from the kitchen. Jon can hear the faint clanking around of mugs and a kettle being filled, and he thinks about how wonderfully domestic it all is.

“Not really,” he calls back. “As long as it isn’t some terrible Hollywood comedy. I can’t stand those.”

He can hear Martin snort in response. “That doesn’t surprise me. I have Netflix and some DVD’s we can look through if you want to.”

Martin reappears, leaning on the doorframe to the living room. “Does that sound like an okay selection?” 

“A-ah, I don’t really mind what we watch. You can pick a movie if you want to.” Martin smiles softly from where he stands at this, and Jon’s breath hitches in his throat.

“Sure,” Martin says before disappearing back into the kitchen to do whatever kitchen-y things he was doing before. Jon hears the opening of a microwave, a few beeps, and then Martin is making his way back over, two mugs now in hand. He gently puts them down on the table by the sofa and sits down next to Jon.

“Alright, popcorn is on its way, let me check if Netflix has anything decent right now.”

  
Jon leans back against the couch with a snort. “Do they ever? I think I’ve seen the only good documentaries they have, so unless they hurry up and get some new ones, I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

Martin giggles while scrolling through the selection. “And yet you let me pick the movie, that’s very brave of you.”

  
Jon hums. “It isn’t really. I trust you with this.”

“Oh wow, well, I’m very flattered, your highness,” Martin teases, and he gets a wonderful little chuckle out of Jon.

The tv comes to life and Martin appears to have made his decision. “I picked something mindless, I think we could both use that right now after today. Hang on, I’m going to get the popcorn.” He rises from the couch and disappears once again into the kitchen. Jon watches him go, head resting on one arm on the back of the couch, and he thinks he could get used to this.

When Martin returns, Jon is so deep in blissful thoughts about coming over to Martin’s more, and also inviting Martin over to his place, that he doesn’t even notice the bowl of popcorn being shoved into his arms.

  
“Didn’t even burn it this time! Today hasn’t been such a failure after all, eh?” Martin grins and Jon’s brain is entirely unhelpful in saying something smart in return, so he just nods intelligently and eats a few popcorn instead.

Martin turns on the movie, and Jon turns his attention to the screen.

It lasts all of ten minutes before Martin speaks over the movie, and Jon is instantly thankful he did so, because as fun as watching a movie sounded, he wasted his chance at proper talk at the café, and is itching to just have the easy and fun conversations they always have.

“So,” Martin has a sort of mischievous gleam in his eyes, and he leans his entire body a little closer to Jon. “I have a question.”

Jon mirrors his pose and shifts slightly more towards him as well. “Go on.”

“When did you start to like me?”

  
Jon snorts and Martin laughs at him. “Oh my god Martin, are you 12? Is this a slumber party for kids I didn’t know I agreed to?”

“Maybe it is! Just answer the question, Mr. Sims.”

Jon rolls his eyes and tries to fight the heat rising to his face from such a dumb question. 

“Hmm, it was probably as soon as I adopted Mr Crinkles and I realised that if this was the end of our interactions, then I would be incredibly sad about it. I’m glad you didn’t ditch me the moment the cat was out of your shelter.”

“Jon, I wouldn’t. I’d still need to follow up on how he was settling in,” Martin teased and Jon actually laughed at this.

  
“Stop being mean. What about you then?” Jon leaned his head in his hand, “when was the moment for you?”

“Oh that’s easy, when you stumbled into the shelter and handed me the ugliest porcelain cat figure I’ve ever seen. It took me a little while to realise, but I don’t think I’ve fallen for someone that fast and hard before. She’s over by my cat decor right over there, see?” Martin points behind Jon, and he turns to see a little collection of cute cat things, the porcelain figure proudly right in the middle of it all.

Jon gapes at Martin. “B-but that was so soon after I’d been awful to you! Are you sure? Don’t lie to me about stuff like this.”

Martin chuckles and gives Jon one of his exceptionally soft and lovely smiles that makes Jon’s heart beat just a little faster. “I’m sure, Jon. What can I say, you left an impression on me.”

“Y-yeah. You too, you know. You um, you left an impression on me, too.” Jon looks down at the bowl of popcorn instead of looking at Martin, but he doesn’t move away or lean back, and he secretly enjoys the closeness of sitting on a couch together like this.

“Oh, when I bumped into you and made you spill all your coffee on the both of us?”

Jon groans and flicks a popcorn at Martin, who just laughs and throws it right back at him. “Do you have to keep bringing that up? I feel like I’ve apologised multiple times for it at this point.”

“Oh you have, it just continues to be fun to tease you about it.”

And so the rest of the evening goes on, the movie happily forgotten by the both of them, the space between them growing slimmer and slimmer until they’re just about pressed to each other’s side, popcorn both in the bowl on the couch, and their moods significantly more cheerful than a few hours earlier.

It isn’t until the screen has turned to black, the credits long gone and Netflix has given up, until they both realise none of them actually watched any of the movie. Jon is halfway laying on the couch, completely turned towards Martin and almost on him, and Martin has sunk so deep into the cushions he might as well be a part of the couch at this point.

Jon looks up at Martin, at the soft curls framing his face, the freckles dotted there, and he feels mushy and happy. “I’ve enjoyed this,” he says quietly, and Martin gives him a gentle smile.

“Yeah,” he says equally quietly, like speaking any louder would break the soft spell they’re under. “Me too.”

“I-I, I’d like to do this again. Maybe also try for a proper date some time soon, to make up for today. I think I’d be more okay in the future, maybe I’ve learned something today.”

Martin’s eyes crinkle in that wonderful way they do when he’s suppressing a laugh, and Jon is lost.

“I’d like to do this again too, and also try for another date. Also I think Daisy might actually kill you if you don’t agree on a double date with her and her girlfriend.”

Jon chuckles. “Oh is that so? She didn’t really strike me as the type, but. Well then, I guess we better schedule a double date some time soon.”

“Mm, yeah, we do.”

They both sit in silence for a little while, none of them wanting to break away from this. 

“I-I…” Jon starts, then thinks better of whatever he was about to say, and drops his gaze down. “Maybe I’d better get going… It’s getting late.”

Martin pouts at this, but still shuffles away from Jon to sit up properly. Jon misses the contact immediately.

“I guess you’re right, it’s already dark out. I’ll walk you to the station.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to. I can find it.” 

“I know, but I want to be with you for as long as possible.”

Jon flushes a deep scarlet he knows Martin will notice. He stands on unsteady legs, and hastily makes way for his shoes and coat. “R-right. Okay. Yeah.”

Martin follows and together they put on their shoes in silence. Jon’s mind going a million miles per hour, entirely too embarrassed to speak. 

The walk to the station seems way too short, Jon feels like they’ve barely left Martin’s apartment before they’re there, and he dreads saying goodbye.  _ Just tell him you had a good time _ , he mentally smacks himself. 

But Martin appears to have had the same thought, because he gingerly takes Jon’s hand in his and nervously starts talking.

“I, er, I had a really lovely time today. If you ignore the actual part we had planned, which did lead to the good part, it’s been a good time.” He has a flush spreading quickly, but he doesn’t falter in his tone.

“I’d love to continue, well, this. Us.”

The thoughts in Jon’s head are going so fast now they’re practically screaming at him, so at a loss for anything articulate that would convey his meaning, he decides to forego any spoken word as he leans up and plants a soft kiss on Martin’s cheek.

“Me too,” he mumbles against his cheek, and when he comes back down he’s greeted with the loveliest shade of intense red on Martin’s face.

“T-text me when you get home, okay?” Martin manages to squeak out, and Jon can’t help but smile at the view.

“Of course.”

They manage to disentangle from each other, and Jon regretfully goes down the stairs, waving after Martin, who seems just as mournful to see him go.

Jon doesn’t register the ride home whatsoever. He doesn’t register going up the stairs to his flat, and he only barely manages to come back to this plane of existence long enough to greet Mr Crinkles and scoop the purring cat up in his arms as he makes his way to his couch. With a soft plop, he sits down, absently petting the cat that has now snuggled into his embrace.

His phone buzzes, and he reaches into his pocket for it. It’s Martin. His face breaks into a wide smile.

**Martin** : Hey! I know I said you should text when you got home but I couldn’t wait. 

**Martin** : I just wanted to say again what a lovely time I had today.

Jon fumbles with his phone in an attempt to type out his answer with one hand, as Mr Crinkles seems hellbent on staying right where he’s nestled.

**Jon** : Me too. I just got home. Mr Crinkles says hi, by the way.

**Martin** : Aww!! Give him some nice scratches from me, I miss him!

**Jon** : He misses you too.

**Jon** : You should come over one day to see him.

**Martin** : I would love to! :D

Jon’s smile widens into a full blown grin.  _ I’m so head over heels. What am I going to do with myself _ , he thinks.

When he falls asleep that night, it’s with a soft and warm feeling all over. The smile doesn’t fade even as he goes to bed, and falls into an easy sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a line in this chapter that I thought was my original idea until I read it in another fic, so if you happened to recognise it, I swear I didn't steal it and it's been planned from the start, I guess someone else just had the same thought as me lmao.


	7. Oh, finally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all. It's been a while. That wasn't on purpose.   
> I'd like to thank everyone who took the time to comment, leave kudos, and bookmark this fic. Literally getting kudos steadily after I forgot to write was what pushed me to finish this last chapter.  
> A final, and enormous, thank you to Chao for being the sole reason this fic even got written. Without your encouragement, and fantastic beta skills, I'd never had the courage to even write this and post it.  
> Anyways! Wow, thank you all so much for sticking with me!!

It’s not that Martin has terrible self control. Quite the opposite, he likes to think. He prides himself with patience, great listening skills and knowing when to stop talking about certain things.

Not today, though.  _ Absolutely _ not today. He is roughly two and a half hours into his monday shift, and not only had words been leaving his mouth as soon as Daisy showed up, but they had all been about a singular thing.

His date with Jon a few days ago.

Martin is very aware that Daisy is just too polite and probably too amused, to tell him to shut up as she would with other people, but he really cannot stop gushing about it. Daisy has so far taken it very well, humming and nodding at all the right places, letting him talk as much as he clearly needed to, but after a particularly long winded speech about how Martin never wanted to get off that couch, Daisy puts a hand on his shoulder while he’s in the middle of taking a breath.

Martin falters before the next sentence can even form and he looks at Daisy, who is looking halfway like she’s holding back a smile, and halfway like she’s very, very tired. 

“Martin, this is all really very fascinating to listen to, and you know I am genuinely happy for you, but please tell me you’ve got another date planned so I don’t have to hear a re-telling of this one for the rest of my life.”

Martin flushes slightly and brushes off her hand with a dramatic little huff. 

“Oh, well if I’m boring you-” 

“You’re not,” 

“-stop interrupting me you mean woman, then I’ll just make sure to have so many dates planned they’ll be the only thing I’ll ever speak about ever again, is that what you want?”

Daisy laughs at him and throws her hands up in mock defeat. 

“Maybe it is, Martin. Maybe all I want from you is to be happy.” Martin rolls his eyes but he can’t stop smiling either. “I’m serious though, it seems like you both want this to become a real thing, unless I’m reading too much into your very ah,  _ descriptive _ , tales of your date.”

“I-I, we, y-yeah. Yeah, I think we do. And we’ve been writing and calling over the weekend after but, I just… Well I didn’t want to crowd him? So I haven’t asked about another date yet, but I will.” 

“Will you?”

Martin gives her a pointed look. “Yes. I will. I know I have a tendency to, well, avoid things sometimes, but not this.”

Daisy shrugs and turns back to her work. 

“Well, I’m glad to hear it.” Martin keeps looking at her. He knows that she knows, that he’s still looking, and he knows she thinks she’s being very smug.

“Fine. Fine, if you don’t believe me, then I’ll just ask him right now!” Martin pulls out his phone from his apron pocket and makes a show out of narrating his actions for her.

“Opening up my messages, locating Jon, typing it out now… Fighting with my autocorrect… Aaaand, sent! There, haha!” He triumphantly pushes his phone back into the pocket and places his hands on his hips.

Daisy just looks lazily over her shoulder towards him with a raised eyebrow and an unimpressed look. 

“You did this,” Martin says. “You challenged me.” 

Daisy also raises her second eyebrow at this. Martin scoffs at her, but whatever he wanted to say dies on his tongue as his pocket gives a soft buzz and he rushes to check his phone. Daisy lets out a low chuckle and turns back again, but he’s too busy ignoring her in favour of the message on his screen.

**Martin** : I know it’s only been a few days since last we saw each other, but… There’s this really good ice cream place I like to visit, and I was wondering if you’d like to go there with me?   
**Jon** : That sounds wonderful, I’d love to go.

Martin is grateful that Daisy has her back turned, because he can’t resist doing a stupid little twirl where he stands before starting to message back.

**Martin** : Great! When are you available?

**Jon** : I’m off at 3, we can meet in front of the shelter and walk there together?

**Martin** : Sure! I’ll see you later then

**Jon** : See you.

Martin can’t help it, he folds in on himself with a long whine. The thought about taking things slow has pestered his mind, but it’s so hard when Jon is equally as eager to see him as he is, and he cannot contain himself.

He’s still busy hiding his face in his hands when he feels Daisy pat him on his back to comfort him.

“You are ridiculous. Pull yourself together.”

Martin laughs into his hands and peeks out towards Daisy.

“No.”

\--

It has been just about two and a half hours into his shift and Jon is keenly aware that his two coworkers are just about dying. He can practically hear the thoughts they’re sending each other through their very unsubtle gazes and eyebrow gestures, but he also does not care.

He had been sure he would be able to not talk about the date at work, but a single lighthearted tease from Tim when he arrived had sent Jon into a long talk about what had happened, and he barely stopped to do his actual work in between sentences. 

Tim is leaning over a short bookshelf, goofy smile on his face. He had asked Jon to go into detail about the disaster part of the date and he is greatly enjoying the show. Sasha slides up to him and leans her head on his shoulder with a happy sigh. 

“And then after the museum we, ah, hold on,” Jon lifts up a finger as a pause. He fishes out his phone from his back pocket and reads whatever message stopped him mid speech. When he sees who it’s from, he smiles softly and immediately goes to text back. 

“I take it that it was Martin,” Sasha says.

“Mm, yes. Yes, he wants to ask me out for ice cream.” Jon is in fact not looking at Sasha while replying and is instead just sort of staring at his phone. Sasha laughs into Tim’s shoulder.

He starts typing again. “You two are okay to finish closing on your own right? You don’t need me to stay after I’ve put away the till and such?”

“Of course not boss, you can go on your date as soon as you want to,” Tim smiles lazily at him. Jon looks up at that, frowning slightly. “N-no I didn’t mean, I’m not leaving early because of a date I-I just, I wanted to be sure if that was okay, also for future… events.” He sets his lips in a thin line and looks back to his phone, knowing fully well they all know it was actually because he wanted to leave as soon as possible for his apparent date later.

Thankfully, Sasha understands. “We don’t mind, Jon. You know we’re just happy every time you actually leave work when you’re supposed to. And if it’s for Martin, then we’re even happier.”

“Absolutely, but also if you keep planning dates with him, then please plan a double date so me and Sasha can formally meet him.”

Jon sighs and crosses his arms. “You know, Martin’s coworker said the same thing. Maybe I should just bite the bullet and plan a triple date, then maybe you’ll leave pestering me and Martin to a minimum as well.”

Tim lights up at this and nearly knocks away Sasha in his excitement, but she swiftly just moves gently under his arm and nestles in further. “A triple date? Jon, that’s a  _ great _ idea! Oh please, don’t be joking, now we have to do it.”

Jon promptly turns on his heel, deciding he’s done with this conversation and not giving Tim any proper answers. “Maybe. Maybe we will.”

Tim groans and plops his head down unto the bookshelf he’s leaning on. “Don’t be like that Jon, we just want to meddle in your life.”

This earns an earnest chuckle from Jon, who’s trying to make himself busy by the cookbook section. In the middle of reaching out for a book, his hand falters and he looks down on himself, then over to Tim and Sasha. 

“Oh no,” he says.

Sasha frowns. “What is it?”

“I’m meeting him today and I haven’t planned an outfit. I’ll have to wear this.”

Tim snorts and Sasha loses her frown immediately. 

“Jon, oh my god, you look fine. Don’t worry,” she detangles herself from Tim, who whines and grabs for her. “I’m pretty sure Martin thinks you look lovely no matter what you wear, anyways.” 

Sasha’s voice is already half muffled from where she’s disappeared behind a bookshelf, presumably to do some work.

Jon rolls his eyes, but still decides to maybe believe her reassuring words.

\--

Time seems to pass at a snail’s pace and Jon is constantly peering out the bookshop’s windows. As it is, he’s barely getting work done, but for a change, he also doesn’t really care. He isn’t bringing work home with him, and he isn’t staying after hours as he always tended to do. The realisation that he actually has something pleasant to draw him away from work leaves a warm feeling in his stomach that he doesn’t mind.

Tim catches Jon staring out the window, again and gives him a confused look. 

“Hey boss, I know you’re excited about later, but you’re not usually this fascinated by the outdoors.” Tim trots up to Jon’s side by the counter and Jon just frowns, not looking away from the window. 

“No, no it’s just… It’s awfully cloudy today.”

Tim gazes out the window and hums in response. 

“Isn’t it always?”.

Jon sighs heavily and finally looks away from the grey scenery and at Tim. 

“Well, yes, but what if it starts to rain? What if Martin… cancels. Because the weather is bad.” He’s chewing on his lower lip in obvious worry.

Tim just shrugs noncommittally, 

“Nah I don’t think he would. He’s the one who invited you, remember?”

But the worried look doesn’t leave Jon’s face and Tim instead reaches out and tries to give him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

“Besides, you can always see each other another day if you  _ do _ end up cancelling, right?” 

“Right… Right, yes. Thanks Tim.” Jon tries to give a confident smile, but ends up with more of a half frown. Tim understands though and just pats his shoulder twice, then returns to whatever incredibly uninteresting filing he was doing before.

Jon lets another sigh escape and too tries to return to his work.

\--

Finally, Jon can escape. He tries to keep it under control, but just about ends up running out the front door with a hurried ‘byeseeyoulater’ directed vaguely at Tim and Sasha.

He’s got the address, he’s planned the route, and he’s desperately trying to get his hair and clothes in order.

Honestly, he’s feeling a little ridiculous, but he’s also just excited to see Martin and maybe… Maybe talk some more. About feelings. He grimaces. _ Ugh, feelings _ .

Predictably, he’s at the shop way too early. He’d sent Martin occasional ETA’s, but didn’t want to seem  _ too _ eager, so he might have lied a little about the actual estimate.

He fidgets a little in front of the shop before willing himself to try and relax by the entrance, looking out for Martin.

Not too long after though, he sees Martin come into view. He’s slightly out of breath and appears to have half jogged the entire way, and Jon is struck just by how sweet and endearing it is that he just about keels over on himself and disappears into a mess of emotions.

“Hi,” Martin breathes out when he comes to a stop by the shop.

“Hi,” Jon mirrors, thoughts mostly spend on  _ ‘would it be okay to hold his hand’ _ and  _ ‘his hair is sticking out a little, could I reach out and fix that _ ’. He doesn’t do any of those things though. He just coughs a little and nods towards the entrance.

“Well I hope this ice cream is good, since you made me leave work early for it,” he tries for a humorous tone, but can feel his voice faltering a little too much in pitch. Martin doesn’t seem to mind though, he just looks at Jon with that lovely smile plastered on his face like Jon is a delightful thing to be around. Maybe Martin does actually think that. 

“I will not be accused of such lies! You were the one who suggested the time, not me,” Martin bumps Jon with his hip and Jon just laughs and opens the door for the two of them.

“But yes, it is very good ice cream, I wouldn’t have suggested it if it wasn’t”.

“Hmm, well I’ll be the judge of that.” Jon moves over to study the selection and Martin loudly rolls his eyes at him.

They pick their flavours, get their ice creams and Martin even manages to shove Jon away long enough to pay for both of them, earning a very outraged scoff from Jon who’s carrying both cones.

“You can just pay next time,” Martin reaches for his ice cream as they leave the shop again and Jon nearly drops the entire thing when his and Martin’s fingers brush against each other.

“R-right. Yes. I will,” he stutters intelligently. 

Martin gives him a very amused look, but doesn’t comment on it and just turns to the ice cream in hand.

They start walking, nowhere in particular, while slowly enjoying their treats.

“So,” Martin asks after a few minutes of idle walk, “what flavours did you get?”

Jon is mid-lick and quickly swallows- “Well, I couldn’t really decide, they had so many interesting ones, so err, I got vanilla and chocolate.”

Martin snorts and Jon clutches his ice cream a little further towards himself. 

“So many flavours to choose from and you pick  _ the _ most basic ones? God, we have to go back there soon so you can actually experience something special.” 

Jon sputters a little. “W-well! They’re good flavours, Martin! Why, did you pick the most weird flavours in there? Intent on shaming my selection with your own?”

Martin is full on laughing now and both the ice cream and Jon melt a little. 

“I’m not shaming you, I’m just saying you could have picked literally any other flavour. I got raspberry cheesecake and salt caramel with white chocolate.”

Jon wrinkles his nose a little. 

“That sounds way too sweet.”

“Oh, like you, Mr vanilla-and-chocolate, has the palette to judge me?”

Jon snorts into his ice cream and drops the topic.

The rest of the walk goes much the same and they fall into easy banter over flavours and everything else. Soon their ice creams are eaten and they’re just walking through a nice little patch of green. Something cold and wet hits Jon’s cheek. He looks up only to see that his premonition had been right and that it has started raining gently.

Martin immediately notices too and pulls a face at the offending rain clouds quickly gathering in thicker above them.

“Do you want to find someplace to hide out the rain?” he asks, already looking around for a café or half roof they could use.

Jon stops walking and Martin looks at him, head cocked to the side in question.

“Actually,” Jon begins. He clears his throat, “I uh, I live pretty close to here so… I could make good on my promise and take you to see Mr Crinkles?”

Martin’s entire face lights up and Jon wants to compare him to the sun, but tries to make his thoughts stay on the task at hand.

“I’d love to! Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude-”

“No no, don’t worry you’re not, I-I’m asking you over.”

“Okay. Yes, that sounds like a good idea,” Martin smiles and Jon agrees that  _ yes, what a wonderful idea, good job me. _

And so they go, Jon leading the way. 

\--

Martin cannot stop himself feeling so giddy. He gets to see Jon’s apartment! Jon invited him home!  _ And _ gets to see Mr Crinkles, who despite getting daily updates on, he still misses dearly.

He barely even has time to feel nervous about the entire thing, and then he finds himself in Jon’s apartment, Jon already fleeing to the kitchen with promises of tea.

Martin makes it all of three steps into the living room before there’s a familiar cat at his heels, rubbing up against him and purring heavily.

In one smooth motion, he scoops up Mr Crinkles who wastes no time burying his little bony face in Martin’s sweater. Martin squeezes him a little tighter and coos away.

“Oh Jon, look at him, he’s so happy here. I’ve never heard him purr this loudly, usually he hides away for an hour before I can even pick him up.” Martin makes his way over to the small kitchen where Jon is busy boiling water.

“Well, I guess you made the right decision after all then, to let me adopt him.” 

“I know I did, obviously we’re both smitten with you.”

The words leave his mouth without much thought and he almost regrets them until he sees Jon nearly drop a mug by the sink in response, face deep red. He elegantly tries to stutter out a response while also navigating the mugs and tea, and Martin has to bury his face into the cat in his arms and muffle a frankly embarrassing noise that almost made it out.

Mr Crinkles makes a little noise of disagreement and Martin quickly lets him jump down and stalk away into the living room, leaving Martin and Jon to awkwardly look at their feet and pointedly not say a thing.

“Listen, I-

“Actually-”

They both shut up. Martin gestures for Jon to keep going, but Jon makes a choked up noise, turns to the mugs and decides the tea has finished. 

He takes both mugs in hand and motions for Martin to follow him into the living room, where he places them on the table by the couch. He sits on the far left and Martin takes the spot opposite him, making sure to not put too much room in between him and Jon, hoping it’s fine to sit this close.

Thankfully, Jon seems to think the same thing and as soon as Martin sits, he scoots over closer.

They sip their tea in an only minimally strained silence, none of them really daring to pick the conversation up again. At one point, Mr Crinkles decides to join and he contentedly curls up in between them, happily squashed between their thighs.

Martin instantly starts petting him and he smiles down at the cat. 

“I really am happy you didn’t back down after my initial refusal,” he says quietly. Jon looks at him but doesn’t respond, just letting him speak.

“I was honestly close to accepting defeat and taking him home myself, but I know he’s found the perfect home here.”

“He would have been happy with you, too, though.” Jon speaks very softly. Martin shrugs at this, and just continues to gently pet the cat.

“I… I think he’d be happier to see you more, actually.” 

Martin looks up at this and finds that Jon isn’t looking at him, brow furrowed in that way it does when he’s thinking very hard about something. He almost stops petting the cat and instead places a hand on Jon’s brow, but he has just enough willpower to not.

“I was thinking… That maybe you should come over more. A-and of course, I can come over to yours too, but you know for um, for Mr Crinkles sake, and to make it fair so I’m not always intruding on you because that wouldn’t be-” he doesn’t get further into his starting ramble before Martin reaches over and softly cups Jon’s face, very effectively shutting him up. 

Martin is very close to Jon’s face now, he can feel Jon’s breath this close and he absently registers that Mr Crinkles gives an offended meow at not being pet and then the cat leaves them on the couch alone.

“You don’t have to justify seeing me or inviting me over, Jon.” Martin says softly and Jon gulps, nods, and gingerly places his hands over Martin’s.

“Honestly,” Martin gently strokes his thumb over Jon’s cheekbone, and revels in the slight tremble he gets out of it, “I want to spend as much time with you as I can.”

“I… I want that, too.” Jon’s voice is barely above a whisper, like the words are hard to speak any louder. Martin gets it, though. He rests their foreheads together, somehow shifting even closer.

Martin clears his throat a little. 

“Can I ki-” but the words are pushed back into his mouth, the question he didn’t even get to ask answered by Jon’s lips softly on his. He chuckles at the eagerness, but is very quickly stopped again, Jon a little more determinedly pushing against him, intent on swallowing every noise that leaves Martin’s lips against his own.

Any coherent thoughts that aren’t about Jon and kissing Jon fly out the window, and he’s left with a happy buzz coating his mind instead. When they finally break for air, none of them pulls back and Martin is happy to watch Jon through half lidded eyes for a moment. Jon’s face is deep scarlet, but he’s smiling widely, and Martin is overcome with the immediate need to kiss that smile. So he does. Again, and again. 

And for the rest of the day, they don’t leave that couch.

\--

“You know,” Jon’s voice is muffled against Martin’s sweater where he’s lazily laying on top of him. He feels soft around the edges, like he’s been in a warm bath for hours.

He feels Martin’s face shift against the top of his head where it’s rested and more feels the ‘hm?’ than he hears it.

“We were supposed to adopt a cat for the shop. We’d been talking about ideas for some time about how to increase our popularity, and Tim had the idea to adopt a cute cat and make an instagram for it, to advertise.”

Martin snorts into his hair, his hand that’s draped over Jon continues to stroke lazy circles into his back.

“That’s how I came across your shelter. I wanted to humor Tim, and I might have been a little out of good ideas, but as soon as I saw Mr Crinkles on your page, I knew I needed him here. Not for the shop, just for me.” He lifts himself up a little, to the immediate displeasure of Martin who makes a complaining sound. Jon smiles fondly at him.

“I’m trying to say that I’m happy Tim got that idea. Otherwise I might never have run into you again, or tried so hard to win your favor. I’m really happy with you, Martin.”

Martin softens at this and drags Jon down into a few lazy kisses. 

“Me too,” he says against his lips. “Me too, Jon.”

\--

The time after that day passes slowly, but happily. Jon manages to officially introduce Martin to Tim and Sasha, who very eagerly, and a little aggressively, drag him into their friend circle, inviting him to every outing and at home pizza nights. 

Martin convinces Daisy along to some of these nights out, too. She eventually brings along Basira and they all fall into an easy rhythm. 

Mr Crinkles is happy that Martin is now spending more time over at Jon’s apartment than his own, and everyone agrees that it was for the better that Jon just took him home.

In the end they never even needed to find a new and better idea for the bookshop to advertise and bring in more customers from Leitner’s down the road, as one day the other store stood up in flame, and burned down to the ground. No one was hurt, besides Leitner’s pride and bank account and no one knew what had happened, except for everyone in their own little bookshop, who had an inkling as to who might have set the shop ablaze, and fled the scene. Not like they complained, though.

  
You could say that the entire unfortunate meeting with spilled coffee and badly phrased apologies wasn’t such a huge  **catastrophe** after all. Everyone seemed to agree it was for the better, actually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANKS FOR READING!!  
> This has been such a fun journey for me and I'm overjoyed y'all came along with me for it.  
> pls tell me if you'd maybe stick around for more fics that are probably stupider than this bcus... we need fun, stupid, stuff right now.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter @cutestpigeon or on tumblr @mahouwl


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